"But hush! the rest may wait. If lost,

No great loss, I divine ; And idle words will better suit

A fair maid's lips than mine."

"God's wrath! speak out, man," Julian cried, O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart ;And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, The knight his subtle shift pursued."Scowl not at me; command my skill, To lure your hawk back, if you will, But not a woman's heart.

"Go! (said she) tell him,-slow is sure;
Fair speed his shafts to-day!

I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey.'

"The game, pardie, was full in sight,
That then did, if I saw aright,

The fair dame's eyes engage ;
For turning, as I took my ways,
I saw them fix'd with steadfast gaze
Full on her wanton page."

The last word of the traitor knight
It had but entered Julian's ear,-
From two o'erarching oaks between,
With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,

A youth, that ill his steed can guide ;
Yet with reverted face doth ride,

As answering to a voice,

That seems at once to laugh and chide-
"Not mine, dear mistress," still he cried,
""Tis this mad filly's choice."

With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
See! see! that face of hope and joy,

That regal front! those cheeks aglow !
Thou needed'st but the crescent sheen,
A quiver'd Dian to have been,

Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!

Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Swift as a dream, from forth the wood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid!
With fatal aim, and frantic force,

The shaft was hurl'd!-a lifeless corse,
Fair Alice from her vaulting horse,
Lies bleeding on the glade.

THE KNIGHT'S TOMB.

WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?—
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!

The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone, and the birch in its stead is grown.-
The Knight's bones are dust,

And his good sword rust ;

His soul is with the saints, I trust.

HYMN TO THE EARTH.

HEXAMETERS.

EARTH! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother,

Hail! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and, blessing, I hymn thee!

Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my voice shall float on your surges―

Soar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on thy pinions.

Travelling the vale with mine eyes-green meadows and lake with green island,

Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream flowing in brightness,

Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded slope of the mountain,

Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy bosom ! [thy tresses, Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through

Green-haired goddess! refresh me; and hark! as they hurry or linger, [sical murmurs. Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with muInto my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest sadness

Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and the heavenly sadness

Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the hymn of thanksgiving.

Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the [the rejoicer!

nurse and the mother,

Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the sun, Guardian and friend of the moon, O Earth, whom

the comets forget not,

Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round and

again they behold thee! [of creation?) Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down

upon thee enamoured!

[goddess,

Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great mother and Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was ungirdled,

Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and won thee!

Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the

blushes of morning!

[self-retention : Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at [and forthwith Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience;

thy centre !

Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty embracement.

Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thousand-fold instincts,

Filled, as a dream, the wide waters; the rivers sang on their channels;

Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas; the yearning ocean swelled upward;

Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the echoing mountains,

Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blossoming branches.

WRITTEN DURING A TEMPORARY BLINDNESS,
IN THE YEAR 1799.

O, WHAT a life is the eye! what a strange and

inscrutable essence!

[warms him; Him, that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that Him that never beheld the swelling breast of his [smiles in its slumber;

mother;

prison !

Him that smiled in his gladness as a babe that Even for him it exists! It moves and stirs in its [he murmurs: Lives with a separate life: and-" Is it a spirit?" "Sure, it has thoughts of its own, and to see is only a language!"