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And oh, we cried, that on this corse Might fall a freshening storm! Rive its dry bones, and with new force A new-sprung world inform!

"-Down came the storm! O'er France it pass'd

In sheets of scathing fire;

All Europe felt that fiery blast,
And shook as it rush'd by her.

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Down came the storm! In ruins fell The worn-out world we knew.

-It pass'd, that elemental swell!
Again appear'd the blue;

"The sun shone in the new-wash'd sky,
And what from heaven saw he?
Blocks of the past, like icebergs high,
Float on a rolling sea!

"Upon them plies the race of man
All it before endeavor'd;

'Ye live,' I cried, 'ye work and plan,
And know not ye are sever'd!

"Poor fragments of a broken world
Whereon men pitch their tent!
Why were ye too to death not hurl'd
When your world's day was spent?

That glow of central fire is done
Which with its fusing flame

Knit all your parts, and kept you one-But ye, ye are the same!

The past, its mask of union on,

Had ceased to live and thrive.

The past, its mask of union gone,
Say, is it more alive?

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'But thou, whom fellowship of mood
Did make from haunts of strife
Come to my mountain-solitude,
And learn my frustrate life ;

"O thou, who, ere thy flying span
Was past of cheerful youth,
Didst find the solitary man

And love his cheerless truth

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ROSSETTI

LIST OF REFERENCES

EDITIONS

*Collected Works, with Preface and Notes by W. M. Rossetti, 2 volumes, Ellis & Elvey, London (The standard edition; issued in America by Roberts Bros.) Poems, Siddal Edition, 7 volumes, 1900-1901. Poems, Handy Volume Edition, 2 volumes, Little, Brown & Co. Family Letters, edited with Memoir by W. M. Rossetti, 1895. Letters to William Allingham, 1854-1870, edited by G. B. Hill, 1897. For other Letters, Journals, etc., see the first three titles below.

BIOGRAPHY AND REMINISCENCES

* ROSSETTI (W. M.), Ruskin, Rossetti, and Pre-Raphaelitism, 1899; Pre-Raphaelite Diaries and Letters, 1900; Rossetti Papers 1862-1870, a Compilation, 1903. (These three books bring the story of Rossetti's life, and the publication of his papers, down to 1870.) CAINE (T. H.), Recollections of Rossetti, 1882. STEPHENS (F. G.), Dante Gabriel Rossetti (dealing with Rossetti chiefly as a painter). SHARP (W.), Dante Gabriel Rossetti a Record and Study, 1882. NICHOLSON (P. W.), Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Poet and Painter, 1886. *KNIGHT (Joseph), Life of Dante Gabriel Rossetti (Great Writers Series), 1887. WOOD (ESTHER), Dante Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelite Movement, 1894. CARY (E. L.), The Rossettis, 1900. MARILLIER (H. C.), Record of Rossetti, 1901. BENSON (A. C.), Rossetti (English Men of Letters Series), 1904. See also J. H. Ingram's Life of Oliver Madox Brown; Anne Gilchrist: Her Life and Writings; and Percy H. Bate's History of the Pre-Raphaelite Movement.

CRITICISM

BUCHANAN (R.), The Fleshly School of Poetry, and other Phenomena of the Day, 1872 (originally in the Contemporary Review, October, 1871). ROSSETTI (D. G.), The Stealthy School of Criticism (originally in the Athenaeum, December 16, 1871; now in his Collected Works). HAMILTON (W.), The Esthetic Movement in England, 1882 (also contains an answer to Buchanan's attack). DAWSON (W. J.), Makers of Modern English. FORMAN (H. B.), Our Living Poets. * MABIE (H. W), Essays in Literary Interpretation. *MYERS (F. W. H.), Essays Modern: Rossetti and the Religion of Beauty. NENCIONI (E.), Letteratura inglese. ** PATER (W.), Appreciations. OLIPHANT (Margaret), Victorian Age of Literature. PATMORE (C.), Principle in Art. SARRAZIN (G.), Poètes modernes de l'Angleterre. SCUDDER (V. D.), Life of the Spirit. SHARP (A.), Victorian Poets. * STEDMAN (E. C.), Victorian Poets. ** SWINBURNE, Essays and Studies.

ROSSETTI

MY SISTER'S SLEEP

SHE fell asleep on Christmas Eve:

At length the long-ungranted shade Of weary eyelids overweigh'd The pain nought else might yet relieve.

Our mother, who had leaned all day

Over the bed from chime to chime, Then raised herself for the first time, And as she sat her down, did pray.

Her little work-table was spread

With work to finish. For the glare Made by her candle, she had care To work some distance from the bed.

Without, there was a cold moon up,
Of winter radiance sheer and thin;
The hollow halo it was in
Was like an icy crystal cup.

Through the small room, with subtle sound

Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove And reddened. In its dim alcove The mirror shed a clearness round.

I had been sitting up some nights, And my tired mind felt weak and blank :

Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank

The stillness and the broken lights.

Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years

Heard in each hour, crept off; and then

The ruffled silence spread again, Like water that a pebble stirs.

Our mother rose from where she sat : Her needles, as she laid them down, Met lightly, and her silken gown Settled: no other noise than that.

"Glory unto the Newly Born!"

So, as said angels, she did say;

Because we were in Christmas Day, Though it would still be long till morn. Just then in the room over us

There was a pushing back of chairs, As some who had sat unawares So late, now heard the hour, and rose. With anxious softly-stepping haste

Our mother went where Margaret lay, Fearing the sounds o'erhead-should they Have broken her long watched-for rest! She stooped an instant, calm, and turned;

But suddenly turned back again : And all her features seemned in pain With woe, and her eyes gazed and yearned.

For my part, I but hid my face,

And held my breath, and spoke no word:

There was none spoken; but I heard The silence for a little space.

Our mother bowed herself and wept: And both my arms fell, and I said, "God knows I knew that she was

dead."

And there, all white, my sister slept.

Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn A little after twelve o'clock We said, ere the first quarter struck. "Christ's blessing on the newly born!" 1847. 1850.

THE BLESSED DAMOZEL THE blessed damozel leaned out

From the gold bar of Heaven: Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even : She had three lilies in her hand,

And the stars in her hair were seven.

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, No wrought flowers did adorn,

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