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As the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried—“ It was surely October,
Was this very night of last year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
This misty mid-region of Weir-
EDGAR A. PoE.
WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.
HEARD a thousand blended notes,
To her fair works did Nature link
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
THE MAID'S LAMENT.
LOVED him not ; and yet now he is gone
I feel I am alone.
Alas! I would not check.
And wearied all my thought
My love could he but live
'Twas vain, in holy ground
I waste for him my breath
And this lorn bosom burns
And making me to weep
Wept he as bitter tears.
These may she never share!
Than daisies in the mould,
Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,
His name and life's brief date.
W. S. LANDOR.
THE MAID'S METAMORPHOSIS."]
Y the moon we sport and play,
With the night begins our day;
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 grass
hopper 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 ?
EDOM O' GORDON.
T fell about the Martinmas,
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,
My merry men and me ?
To see that fair ladye.”
The ladye stood on her castle wa',
Beheld baith dale and down; There she was avare of a host of men
Came riding towards the toun.' “O see ye not, my merry men a' ?
O see ye not what I see? Methinks I see a bost of men ;
I marvel who they be.”
As he cam' riding hame;
Wha reck'd nor sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hersell
And putten on her goun,
Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper set,
Nae sooner said the grace,
Were lighted about the place.
As fast as she could hie,
She could wi' him agree.
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.