The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still: "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle, and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." But he thought of his sister, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love tune; And the young girl mused beside the well, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms, And the proud man sighed with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! "Free as when I rode that day Where the barefoot maiden raked the hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor, But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain, And oft, when the summer sun shone hot And she heard the little spring brook fall In the shade of the apple-tree again And, gazing down with a timid grace, Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, And for him who sat by the chimney lug, A manly form at her side she saw, Then she took up her burden of life again, Alas for maiden, alas for judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, For of all sad words of tongue or pen, Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies And, in the hereafter, angels may JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, THE PALM AND THE PINE. BENEATH an Indian palm a girl Her cheek is clear and pale as pearl Beside a northern pine a boy Cool grows the sick and feverish calm, As soon shall nature interlace As these young lovers face to face From the German of HEINRICH HEINE. LORD HOUGHTON. CUMNOR HALL. [SAID TO HAVE BEEN THE SUGGESTIVE ORIGIN OF SCOTT'S "KENILWORTH."] THE dews of summer night did fall; And many an oak that grew thereby. Now naught was heard beneath the skies, That issued from that lonely pile. "Leicester," she cried, "is this thy love "No more thou com'st with lover's speed, Thy once beloved bride to see; But be she alive, or be she dead, I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee. "Not so the usage I received When happy in my father's hall; "I rose up with the cheerful morn, No lark more blithe, no flower more gay, |