THE MAY QUEEN.

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry,
This above all-to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season thee in this.

Shakespere.

3

THE MAY QUEEN.

PART FIRST.

By permission of Messrs. Strahan & Co.)

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;

To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New

year,

Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline :
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say ;
So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen
o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break:
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands

gay,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley whom think ye I should see
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yester-
day:

But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May

4

THE MAY QUEEN.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be; They say his heart is breaking, mother-what is that to me?

There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you'll be there too, mother, to see me made the Queen; For the shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from far away, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers,

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint, sweet cuckoo flowers;

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadowgrass,

And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they

pass:

There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green, and still, And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill; And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

SOLITUDE.-WATER.

5

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad Newyear;

To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. Tennyson.

SOLITUDE.

TO SIT on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean:
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold

Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tir'd denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all that flatter'd, followed, sought and sued:
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude.

WATER.

Byron

By permission of the Proprietors of Mr. Anderton's Poems.)

SEE! our glasses are not fill'd
With fermented or distilled.
'Tis a liquid fools refuse-

That which Jah-Jehovah brews
What with water can compare?
Pure as ether, free as air,
Bright as drop in pity's eye,
Sweet as breath of Araby.

Here's a bumper! drink it up!
Life is lodged within the

cup:

Quaffing this, you waste no wealth,
Brace your nerves, and guard your health.
Boon most common, yet the best,
Harmless as a mother's breast;
Ever welcomed with delight
By the sterling Rechabite.

Tempt no more, 'tis labour vain—
Sherry pale or red champagne :
Give me water-Hermon's dew-
Clear as yon wide arch of blue,
Nature's recipe for thirst.
Ne'er did man, by act accurst,
Remedy for that invent
Like our virgin element.

Stimulants exhaust the frame;
Drunkards play a losing game;
Purchase, by their beastly whims,
Aching heads and shaking limbs;
But the draught that in the wild
Cheer'd poor Hagar's fainting child,
Life, and strength, and freedom brings,
Like the source from whence it springs
Laughing in the mazy rills,
Leaping down the giant hills,
Sleeping in the glassy lakes,
Where no breeze a ripple makes;
Or in teeming showers of love,
Dropping fatness from above,
On the scorch'd and arid sod-
Best of all the gifts of God.

Fount! whose droppings did suffice
Sinless man in Paradise ;
Blessed cup, which once did quell,
Jesu's pangs at Jacob's well;
Type of what His grace imparts
To believing, broken hearts;
Well of life, whose running o'er,
Those who drink shall thirst no more,

Henry Anderton.

RINGING OUT THE YEAR.

RINGING OUT THE YEAR.

(By permission of Messrs. Strahan & Co.)
RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring happy bells across the snow;
The year is going-let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly-dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,

Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

A. Tennyson.