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To accept your loving convoy, knight?
And joins us on the plain ?"
With stifled tones the knight replied,
Nay, let the hunt proceed !
“ You sent betimes. Not yet unbarred
I found the middle door ;Two stirrers only met my eyes,
Fair Alice, and one more.
“I came unlooked for: and, it seemed,
In an unwelcome hour;
Within the latticed bower.
“ But hush ! the rest may wait. If lost,
No great loss, I divine ;
A fair maid's lips than mine."
“ God's wrath! speak out, man,” Julian cried,
O’ermaster'd by the sudden smart ;And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, The knight his subtle shift pursued. “Scowl not at me; command my skill, To lure your hawk back, if you will,
But not a woman's heart.
“Go! (said she) tell him, --slow is sure,
Fair speed his shafts to-day! I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey."
The fair dame's eyes engage ;
Full on her wanton page.”
The last word of the traitor knight
It had but entered Julian's ear,From two o'erarching oaks between, With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,
A youth, that ill his steed can guide;
As answering to a voice, That seems at once to laugh and chide“Not mine, dear mistress,” still he cried,
“ 'Tis this mad filly's choice.”
With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
That regal front ! those cheeks aglow!
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos !
Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood, Swift as a dream, from forth the wood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid!
With fatal aim, and frantic force,
Lies bleeding on the glade.
THE KNIGHT'S TOMB. WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn ?
Where may the grave of that good man be ?By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch tree! The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, And whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone,—and the birch in its stead is grown.The Knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust. — His soul is with the saints, I trust.
HYMN TO THE EARTH.
EARTH! thou mother of numberless children,
the nurse and the mother, Hail ! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and,
blessing, I hymn thee! Forth, ye sweet sounds: from my harp, and my
voice shall float on your surgesSoar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song
on thy pinions. Travelling the vale with mine eyes-green meadows
and lake with green island,
Dark in its bason of rock, and the bare stream flow
ing in brightness, Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded
slope of the mountain, Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head
on thy bosom! Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through
thy tresses, Green-haired goddess ! refresh me; and bark, as
they hurry or linger, Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with musi
cal murmurs. Into my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest
sadness Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy
and the heavenly sadness Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and
the hymn of thanksgiving. Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the
nurse and the mother, Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the sun, the
rejoicer, Guardian and friend of the moon, O Earth, whom
the comets forget not, Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round, and
again they behold thee! Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of
creation ?) Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon
thee enamored! Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great mother and
goddess, Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap
Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed
thee and won thee! Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the
blushes of morning! Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy
self-retention; Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at
thy centre ! Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience;
and forth with Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the
mighty embracement. Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thou
sand-fold instincts, Filled, as a dream, the wide waters; the rivers
sang in their channels ; Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas; the yearn
ing ocean swelled upward ; Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods,
and the echoing mountains, Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blos
IN THE YEAR 1799.
O WHAT a life is the eye! what a strange and
inscrutable essence ! Him, that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that
warms him; Him that never beheld the swelling breast of his mother;