WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN. CHARLES EDWARD IN EXILE. LOVE may die, and hatred slumber, Than to live an exiled king! Styled an equal-deemed a servant- CHARLES EDWARD IN EXILE. Worse by far is fancied freedom Love removed the bolt and bar Love was warder to the lovers From the dawn to even-star. Wherefore, Love! didst thou betray me? That same scarf of broidered tissue, When my banner waved once more On the castled keep of London, Where my fathers' waved before? Saying, "Wilt thou own it, Princess? WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN. Scornfully she looked upon me With a measured eye and coldScornfully she viewed the token, Though her fingers wrought the gold; And she answered, faintly flushing, "Hast thou kept it, then, so long? Worthy matter for a minstrel To be told in knightly song! Worthy of a bold Provençal, Pacing o'er the peaceful plain, Singing of his lady's favour, Boasting of her silken chain- Is this all that thou hast brought me Is this all the trophy carried From the lands where thou hast been? It was broidered by a Princess, Canst thou give it to a Queen?" Woman's love is writ in water! Woman's faith is traced on sand- Let me hear the thundering tide, Spouting when the storm is highGive me but one hour of ScotlandLet me see it ere I die! GEORGE MEREDITH. WILL O' THE WISP. FOLLOW me, follow me, Over brake and under tree, Through the bosky tanglery, Brushwood and bramble! Follow me, follow me, Laugh and leap and scramble! Follow, follow, Hill and hollow, Fosse and burrow, Fen and furrow, Down into the bulrush beds, 'Midst the reeds and osier heads, For a midnight ramble! O! what a mighty fog, What a merry night O ho! Rotten log, Spotted frog, Beetle bright With crawling light, What a joy O ho! GEORGE MEREDITH. Deep into the purple bog- What a joy O ho! Where like hosts of puckered witches Warming hands and chafing feet, By the blue marsh-hovering oils: O the fools for all their moans! Not a forest mad with fire Could still their teeth, or warm their bones, Or loose them from their chilly coils. What a clatter, How they chatter! Shrink and huddle, All a muddle, What a joy O ho! Down we go, down we go, Soon shall I be down below, Plunging with a gray fat friar, What a joy O ho! Breathing mists and whisking lamps, While my cousin Lantern Jack, With cock ears and cunning eyes, Daubs him oozy green and black, Sits upon his rolling size, Where he lies, where he lies, Groaning full of sack Staring with his great round eyes! What a joy, O ho! Sits upon him in the swamps |