So she strove against her weakness,

Tho' at times her spirit sank: Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank: And a gentle consort made he,

And her gentle mind was such That she grew a noble lady,

And the people loved her much. But a trouble weigh'd upon her,

And perplex'd her, night and morn, With the burthen of an honour

Unto which she was not born. Faint she grew, and ever fainter,

And she murmur'd, 'Oh, that he
Were once more that landscape-painter,
Which did win my heart from me!'
So she droop'd and droop'd before him,
Fading slowly from his side:
Three fair children first she bore him,
Then before her time she died.
Weeping, weeping late and early,
Walking up and pacing down,
Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh,
Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.
And he came to look upon her,

And he look'd at her and said,
'Bring the dress and put it on her,
That she wore when she was wed.'
Then her people, softly treading,

Bore to earth her body, drest
In the dress that she was wed in,
That her spirit might have rest.

THE VOYAGE.

I.

WE left behind the painted buoy

That tosses at the harbour-mouth; And madly danced our hearts with joy, As fast we fleeted to the South : How fresh was every sight and sound On open main or winding shore ! We knew the merry world was round, And we might sail for evermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow,

Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail :

The Lady's-head upon the prow
Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the

gale.

The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel, And swept behind; so quick the run, We felt the good ship shake and reel, We seem'd to sail into the Sun !

III:

How oft we saw the Sun retire,
And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,
And sleep beneath his pillar'd light!
How oft the purple-skirted robe

Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe Again we dash'd into the dawn!

IV.

New stars all night above the brim
Of waters lighten'd into view;
They climb'd as quickly, for the rim
Changed every moment as we flew.
Far ran the naked moon across
The houseless ocean's heaving field,
Or flying shone, the silver boss
Of her own halo's dusky shield;

V.

The peaky islet shifted shapes,

High towns on hills were dimly seen, We past long lines of Northern capes

And dewy Northern meadows green. We came to warmer waves, and deep

Across the boundless east we drove, Where those long swells of breaker sweep The nutmeg rocks and isles of clove.

VI.

By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade, Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine

With ashy rains, that spreading made

Fantastic plume or sable pine; By sands and steaming flats, and floods Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast, And hills and scarlet-mingled woods Glow'd for a moment as we past.

Now on some twisted ivy-net,

Now by some tinkling rivulet,
In mosses mixt with violet

Her cream-white mule his pastern set: And fleeter now she skimm'd the plains

Than she whose elfin prancer springs
By night to eery warblings,
When all the glimmering moorland rings
With jingling bridle-reins.

As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,
The happy winds upon her play'd,
Blowing the ringlet from the braid :
She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd

The rein with dainty finger-tips,
A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.

A FAREWELL.

FLOW down, cold rivulet, to the sea,

Thy tribute wave deliver :

No more by thee my steps shall be,

For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,

A rivulet then a river:

No where by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree,

And here thine aspen shiver ; And here by thee will hum the bee, For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver; But not by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever.

THE BEGGAR MAID.

HER arms across her breast she laid;
She was more fair than words can say:
Bare-footed came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.

119

In robe and crown the king stept down,
To meet and greet her on her way;
'It is no wonder,' said the lords,
'She is more beautiful than day.'

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen :
One praised her ancles, one her eyes,

One her dark hair and lovesome mien. So sweet a face, such angel grace,

In all that land had never been: Cophetua sware a royal oath :

This beggar maid shall be my queen!'

Narrowing in to where they sat assembled Low voluptuous music winding trembled, Wov'n in circles: they that heard it sigh'd, Panted hand-in-hand with faces pale, Swung themselves, and in low tones replied;

Till the fountain spouted, showering wide Sleet of diamond-drift and pearly hail; Then the music touch'd the gates and died; Rose again from where it seem'd to fail, Storm'd in orbs of song, a growing gale; Till thronging in and in, to where they waited,

As 'twere a hundred-throated nightingale, The strong tempestuous treble throbb'd and palpitated;

Ran into its giddiest whirl of sound,
Caught the sparkles, and in circles,
Purple gauzes, golden hazes, liquid mazes,
Flung the torrent rainbow round:
Then they started from their places,
Moved with violence, changed in hue,
Caught each other with wild grimaces,
Half-invisible to the view,
Wheeling with precipitate paces
To the melody, till they flew,
Hair, and eyes, and limbs, and faces,
Twisted hard in fierce embraces,
Like to Furies, like to Graces,
Dash'd together in blinding dew:
Till, kill'd with some luxurious agony,
The nerve-dissolving melody
Flutter'd headlong from the sky.

III.

And then I look'd up toward a mountain

tract,

That girt the region with high cliff and

lawn:

I saw that every morning, far withdrawn Beyond the darkness and the cataract, God made Himself an awful rose of dawn, Unheeded and detaching, fold by fold, From those still heights, and, slowly drawing near,

A vapour heavy, hueless, formless, cold, Came floating on for many a month and

year,

And warn'd that madman ere it grew too late:

But, as in dreams, I could not. Mine was broken,

When that cold vapour touch'd the palace gate,

And link'd again. I saw within my head A gray and gap-tooth'd man as lean as death,

Who slowly rode across a wither'd heath, And lighted at a ruin'd inn, and said:

IV.

'Wrinkled ostler, grim and thin!

Here is custom come your way; Take my brute, and lead him in, Stuff his ribs with mouldy hay. 'Bitter barmaid, waning fast!

See that sheets are on my bed; What! the flower of life is past : It is long before you wed. 'Slip-shod waiter, lank and sour, At the Dragon on the heath! Let us have a quiet hour,

Let us hob-and-nob with Death.

'I am old, but let me drink;
Bring me spices, bring me wine;
I remember, when I think,

That my youth was half divine.
Wine is good for shrivell'd lips,

When a blanket wraps the day, When the rotten woodland drips,

And the leaf is stamp'd in clay.

'Sit thee down, and have no shame, Cheek by jowl, and knee by knee : What care I for any name?

What for order or degree?

'Let me screw thee up a peg:

Let me loose thy tongue with wine: Callest thou that thing a leg?

Which is thinnest ? thine or mine?

'Thou shalt not be saved by works: Thou hast been a sinner too:

spoken,

Empty scarecrows, I and you!