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AULD ROB MORRIS.
Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home
In the soft palace of a fairy Future ! THERE's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, My father died; and I, the peasant-born, He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise men :
Out of the prison of my mean estate ; He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, And, with such jewels as the exploring mind And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine. Brings from the caves of Knowledge, buy my
ransom She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; Fr
May; From those twin jailers of the daring heart, She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay; Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image, As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
ed, Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory, And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.
And lured me on to those inspiring toils But 0, she's an heiress, auld Robin 's a laird,
By which man masters men! For thee, I grew And my daddie has naught but a cot-house and
A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages!
For thee, I sought to borrow from each Grace yard; A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,
And every Muse such attributes as lend The wounds I must hide that will soon be my
Ideal charms to Love. I thought of thee, dead.
And passion taught me poesy, — of thee,
And on the painter's canvas grew the life The day comes to me, but delight brings me Of beauty! — Art became the shadow nane :
Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes ! The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane; Men called me vain, — some, mad, - I heeded I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
not; And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast. But still toiled on, hoped on, — for it was sweet.
If not to win, to feel more worthy, thee !
The thoughts that burst their channels into song, 0, how past describing had then been my bliss, And sent them to thee, — such a tribute, lady, As now my distraction no words can express! As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest.
The name — appended by the burning heart
It had created - yea, the enthusiast's name, CLAUDE MELNOTTE'S APOLOGY AND
| That should have been thy triumph, was thy DEFENCE.
That very hour -- when passion, turned to wrath, PAULINE, by pride Resembled hatred most ; when thy disdain Angels have fallen ere thy time ; by pride, — Made my whole soul a chaos — in that hour That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould — The tempters found me a revengeful tool The evil spirit of a bitter love
For their revenge! Thou hadst trampled on the And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.
worm, — From my first years my soul was filled with thee; It turned, and stung thee! I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy
LORD EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.
The strawberry-leaves were red and sear; Vain, frantic, - guilty, if thou wilt, became
October's airs were fresh and chill, A fountain of ambition and bright hope ;
When, pausing on the windy hill, I thought of tales that by the winter hearth
The hill that overlooks the sea, Old gossips tell, – how maidens sprung from You talked confidingly to me, – kings
Me whom your keen, artistic sight Have stooped from their high sphere ; how Love, Has not yet learned to read aright, like Death,
Since I have veiled my heart from you, Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook And loved you better than you knew.
You told me of your toilsome past ;
You did not see the bitter trace
LINDA TO HAFED.
FROM "THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS."
Were wafted off to seas unknown,
And we might live, love, die alone ! Far from the cruel and the cold,
Where the bright eyes of angels only
A paradise so pure and lonely !
The passing smile her cheek put on ;
His eyes met hers, that smile was gone ;
I've seen my fondest hopes decay;
But 't was the first to fade away.
To glad me with its soft black eye,
And love me, it was sure to die !
Of all I ever dreamt or knew,
O misery! must I lose that too?
You walk the sunny side of fate ;
Your life's proud aim, your art's high truth,
I used to dream in all these years
FROM " TWELFTH NIGHT."
DUKE. What dost thou know?
owe: Perchance the violets o'er my dust
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. Will half betray their buried trust,
My father had a daughter loved a man, And say, their blue eyes full of dew,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, “She loved you better than you knew." I should your lordship.
FLORENCE PERCY. | DUKE. And what's her history?
VIOLA. A blank, my lord. She never told , In the spring a livelier iris changes on the her love,
burnished dove ; But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought; to thoughts of love. And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument,
Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? I be for one so young, We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove observance hung. Much in our vows, but little in our love.
SHAKESPEARE. And I said, “My cousin Amy, speak, and speak
the truth to me;
Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being LOCKSLEY HALL.
sets to thee."
COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color 't is early morn,
and a light, Leave me here, and when you want me, sound As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the upon the bugle horn.
northern night. "Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the And she turned, - her bosom shaken with a curlews call,
sudden storm of sighs ; Dreary gleams about the moorland, flying over all the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of Locksley Hall :
Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing they sandy tracts,
should do me wrong"; And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin ?” weeping, cataracts.
“I have loved thee long."
Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I Love took up the glass of time, and turned it in went to rest,
his glowing hands; Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in West.
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the mellow shade,
the chords with might ; Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed braid.
in music out of sight. Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the youth sublime
copses ring, With the fairy tales of science, and the long And her whisper thronged my pulses with the result of time;
fulness of the spring.
When the centuries behind me like a fruitful Many an evening by the waters did we watch the land reposed ;
stately ships, When I clung to all the present for the promise And our spirits rushed together at the touching that it closed ;
of the lips.
could see, —
When I dipt into the future far as human eye my cousin, shallow-hearted ! O my Amy,
mine no more! Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder | O the dreary, dreary moorland 1 O the barren, that would be.
barren shore !
In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs robin's breast;
have sung, — In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a another crest;
shrewish tongue !
Is it well to wish thee hapry? – having known | Never ! though my mortal summers to such length me; to decline
of years should come On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart As the many-wintered crow that leads the clang than mine!
ing rookery home.
Yet it shall be : thou shalt lower to his level day Where is comfort ? in division of the records of by day,
the mind ? What is fine within thee growing coarse to sym-Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I pathize with clay.
knew her, kind ?
As the husband is, the wife is ; thou art mated I remember one that perished ; sweetly did she with a clown,
speak and move; And the grossness of his nature will have weight Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to drag thee down.
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the spent its novel force,
love she bore ! Something better than his dog, a little dearer than No, - she never loved me truly ; love is love for. his horse.
What is this ? his eyes are heavy, — think not Comfort ? comfort scorned of devils ! this is truth they are glazed with wine.
the poet sings, Go to him ; it is thy duty, — kiss him ; take his That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering hand in thine.
happier things. It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy overwrought, —
heart be put to proof, Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with In the dead, unhappy night, and when the rain thy lighter thought.
is on the roof.
He will answer to the purpose, easy things to un. Like a dog, he hunts in dreams; and thou art derstand,
staring at the wall, Better thou wert dead before me, though I slew Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the thee with my hands.
shadows rise and fall.
Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to heart's disgrace,
his drunken sleep, Rolled in one another's arms, and silent in a last To thy widowed marriage-pillows, to the tears embrace.
that thou wilt weep.
Cursed be the social wants that sin against the Thou shalt hear the “Never, never," whispered strength of youth !
by the phantom years, Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the And a song from out the distance in the ringing living truth!
of thine ears;
Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient kind. nature's rule !
ness on thy pain. Cursed be the gold that gilds the straitened fore- Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow ; get thee to head of the fool!
thy rest again.
Well — 't is well that I should bluster !– Hadst Nay, but nature brings thee solace ; for a tender thou less unworthy proved,
voice will cry ; Would to God --- for I had loved thee more than 'T is a purer life than thine, a lip to drain thy ever wife was loved.
trouble dry. Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears Baby lips will laugh me down ; my latest rival but bitter fruit ?
brings thee rest, I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the be at the root.
O, the child too clothes the father with a dear- | And his spirit leaps within him to be gone beness not his due.
fore him then, Half is thine and half is his : it will be worthy Underneath the light he looks at, in among the of the two.
throngs of men ;
O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reappart,
ing something new : With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a That which they have done but earnest of the daughter's heart.
things that they shall do:
“They were dangerous guides the feelings—she For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could herself was not exempt
see, Truly, she herself had suffered ” — Perish in thy Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder self-contempt!
that would be ;
Overlive it - lower yet - be happy! wherefore Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of should I care ?
magic sails, I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with despair.
costly bales ; What is that which I should turn to, lighting Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there upon days like these ?
rained a ghastly dew Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to From the nations' airy navies grappling in the golden keys.
central blue ;
Every gate is thronged with suitors, all the Far along the world-wide whisper of the south. markets overflow.
wind rushing warm, I have but an angry fancy : what is that which I | With the standards of the peoples plunging through should do?
I had been content to perish, falling on the foe. Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the man's ground,
battle-flags were furled When the rankis are rolled in vapor, and the In the parliament of man, the federation of the winds are laid with sound.
But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt There the common sense of most shall hold a that honor feels,
fretful realm in awe, And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in uni. other's heels.
Can I but relive in sadness ? I will turn that So I triumphed ere my passion sweeping through earlier page.
me left me dry, Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou won. Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with drous mother-age!
the jaundiced eye;
Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt be- Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are fore the strife,
out of joint. When I heard my days before me, and the tu. Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on mult of my life ;
from point to point : Yearning for the large excitement that the com. Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping years would yield,
ing nigher, Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly father's field,
And at night along the dusky highway near and Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing nearer drawn,
purpose runs, Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a And the thoughts of men are widened with the dreary dawn;
process of the suns.