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Till the thunder was mute,
Why was not I crush'd — such a pitiful garm?

O Delphic Apollo !

The Pleiades were up,

Watching the silent air;
The seeds and roots in the Earth
Were swelling for summer fare ;

The Ocean, its neighbour,

Was at its old labour,

When, who -- who did dare To tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow,

And grin and look proudly,

And blaspheme so loudly,
And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now ?

O Delphic Apollo !

LINES.

NFELT, unheard, unseen,
I've left my

queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber ly-

ing:
Ah! through their nestling touch,

Who who could tell how much
There is for madness - cruel, or complying ?

Those faery lids how sleek!

Those lips how moist ! -- they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds :

Into my fancy's ear

Melting a burden dear, How " Love doth know no fulness, and no bounds."

True ! tender monitors!
I bend unto your laws:

This sweetest day for dalliance was born!

So, without more ado,

I'll feel my heaven anew,
For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

1817,

SONG.

I.

USH, hush! tread softly ! hush, hush, my

dear! All the house is asleep, but we know very well That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may

hear, Tho you've padded his night-cap — O sweet

Isabel !
Tho' your feet are more light than a Faery's

feet,
Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet,-
Hush, hush! soft tiptoe ! hush, hush, my dear!
For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.

II.

No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there

On the river, —- all's still, and the night's sleepy eye
Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care,
Charm'd to death by the drone of the humming

May-fly ;
And the moon, whether prudish or complaisant,

Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want
No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,
But my Isabel's eyes, and her lips pulp'd with bloom.

III.

Lift the latch! ah gently! ah tenderly

sweet! We are dead if that latchet gives one little clink ! Well done now those lips, and a flowery seat The old man may sleep, and the planets may

wink; The shut rose shall dream of our loves and

awake Full-blown, and such warmth for the morning

take, The stock-dove shall hatch his soft twin-eggs and coo, While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!

1818.

FAERY SONG.

S'

HED no tear! O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.

Weep no more! Oweep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes !
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies

Shed no tear.

Look up,

Overhead! look overhead !
'Mong the blossoms white and red-

look
up.

I flutter now
On this fresh pomegranate bough.
See me! 'tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man's ill.
Shed no tear! O shed no tear !
The flower will bloom another year.
Adieu, Adieu - I fly, adieu,
I vanish in the heaven's blue

Adieu, Adieu !

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI.

A BALLAD.

I.

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WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering ?

The sedge has wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

II.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms !

So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

III.

I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

IV.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

V.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She look'd at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

VI.

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery song

VII.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said —

" I love thee true.”

VIII.

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

IX.

And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dream'd - Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd

On the cold bill's side.

X.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried --- La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall !”

XI.

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gaped wide,

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