Of Vikings and of Jarls! SONNET ON MRS KEMBLE'S READINGS FROM SHAKSPEARE. O PRECIOUS evenings! all too swiftly sped! Of the great poet who foreruns the ages, O happy Reader! having for thy text The magic book, whose Sibylline leaves have caught The rarest essence of all human thought! O happy Poet! by no critic vext! How must thy listening spirit now rejoice THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon earth That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again. The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, A gray, old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three But the great Master said, "I see To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, SUSPIRIA. TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Take them, O Grave! and let them lie Take them, O great Eternity! Our little life is but a gust, HYMN FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION. CHRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing more; Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, Within this temple Christ again, unseen, And his invisible hands to-day have been And evermore beside him on his way The unseen Christ shall move, Beside him at the marriage-feast shall be, O holy trust! O endless sense of rest! To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, THE BLIND GIRL OF CASTEL-CUILLÈ FROM THE GASCON OF JASMIN. Only the Lowland tongue of Scotland might Let me attempt it with an English quill; I. Ar the foot of the mountain height When the apple, the plum, and the almond-tree On a Wednesday morn of Saint Joseph's Eve: "The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom, So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, So fair a bride shall pass to-day!' This old Te Deum, rustic rites attending, Of rosy village girls, clean as the eye, Each one with her attendant swain, Together blending, "The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom, It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden, The sky was blue; without one cloud of gloom, When one beholds the dusky hedges blossom, To sounds of joyous melodies, That touch with tenderness the trembling bosom, Gayly frolicking, A band of youngsters With fingers pressing, Till in the veriest Madness of mirth, as they dance, They retreat and advance, Trying whose laugh shall be loudest and merriest; While the bride, with roguish eyes, Sporting with them, now escapes and cries: "Those who catch me Married verily This year shall be!" And all pursue with eager haste, And touch her pretty apron fresh and new, |