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That made the wild-swan pause in her | On a day when they were going

cloud,

And the lark drop down at his feet.

The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee, The snake slipt under a spray,

The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,

And stared, with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,

But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be When the years have died away."

My life is full of weary days,

But good things have not kept aloof, Nor wandered into other ways:

I have not lack'd thy mild reproof,
Nor golden largess of thy praise.

And now shake hands across the brink
Of that deep grave to which I go :
Shake hands once more: I cannot sink
So far far down, but I shall know
Thy voice, and answer from below.

THE CAPTAIN.

A LEGEND OF THE NAVY.

HE that only rules by terror

Doeth grievous wrong.
Deep as Hell I count his error,

Let him hear my song.

Brave the Captain was: the seamen
Made a gallant crew,
Gallant sons of English freemen,
Sailors bold and true.
But they hated his oppression,
Stern he was and rash;
So for every light transgression
Doom'd them to the lash.
Day by day more harsh and cruel
Seem'd the Captain's mood.
Secret wrath like smother'd fuel
Burnt in each man's blood.
Yet he hoped to purchase glory,
Hoped to make the name
Of his vessel great in story,

Wheresoe'er he came.

So they past by capes and islands,
Many a harbor-mouth,

Sailing under palmy highlands
Far within the South.

O'er the lone expanse,

In the north, her canvas flowing,
Rose a ship of France.
Then the Captain's color heighten'd,
Joyful came his speech:
But a cloudy gladness lighten'd
In the eyes of each.

"Chase," he said: the ship flew forward,
And the wind did blow;
Stately, lightly, went she Norward,
Till she near'd the foe.

Then they look'd at him they hated,
Had what they desired :

Mute with folded arms they waited -
Not a gun was fired.

But they heard the foeman's thunder
Roaring out their doom;

All the air was torn in sunder,

Crashing went the boom,

Spars were splinter'd,decks were shatter'd,
Bullets fell like rain;

Over mast and deck were scatter'd
Blood and brains of men.

Spars were splinter'd; decks were broken.
Every mother's son-

Down they dropt- no word was spoken-
Each beside his
gun.
On the decks as they were lying,
Were their faces grim.

In their blood, as they lay dying,
Did they smile on him.

Those, in whom he had reliance
For his noble name,

With one smile of still defiance

Sold him unto shame.

Shame and wrath his heart confounded,

Pale he turn'd and red,

Till himself was deadly wounded
Falling on the dead.

Dismal error! fearful slaughter!
Years have wander'd by,

Side by side beneath the water
Crew and Captain lie;
There the sunlit ocean tosses

O'er them mouldering,
And the lonely seabird crosses
With one waft of the wing.

THREE SONNETS TO A COQUETTE.

I.

CARESS'D or chidden by the dainty hand, And singing airy trifles this or that, Light Hope at Beauty's call would perch and stand,

And run thro' every change of sharp | I pledge her not in any cheerful cup, Nor care to sit beside her where she

and flat;

And Fancy came and at her pillow sat, When sleep had bound her in his rosy band,

And chased away the still-recurring

gnat,

And woke her with a lay from fairy land. But now they live with Beauty less and less,

For Hope is other Hope and wanders far,

Nor cares to lisp in love's delicious creeds;

And Fancy watches in the wilderness, Poor Fancy sadder than a single star, That sets at twilight in a land of reeds.

II.

The form, the form alone is eloquent !

A nobler yearning never broke her rest Than but to dance and sing, be gayly drest,

sits

Ah pity-hint it not in human tones, But breathe it into earth and close it up With secret death for ever, in the pits Which some green Christmas crams with weary bones.

SONG.

LADY, let the rolling drums Beat to battle where thy warrior stands : Now thy face across his fancy comes,

And gives the battle to his hands.

Lady, let the trumpets blow, Clasp thy little babes about thy knee : Now their warrior father meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and thee.

SONG.

And win all eyes with all accomplish-HOME they brought him slain with spears.

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They brought him home at even-fall: All alone she sits and hears Echoes in his empty hall,

Sounding on the morrow.

The Sun peep'd in from open field,
The boy began to leap and prance,
Rode upon his father's lance,
Beat upon his father's shield-

"O hush, my joy, my sorrow."

ON A MOURNER.

I.

NATURE, so far as in her lies,
Imitates God, and turns her face
To every land beneath the skies,
Counts nothing that she meets with
base,

But lives and loves in every place;

II.

Fills out the homely quick set-screens,
And makes the purple lilac ripe,
Steps from her airy hill, and greens
The swamp, where hums the dropping
snipe,

With moss and braided marish-pipe ;

III.

And on thy heart a finger lays,

Saying, "Beat quicker, for the time Is pleasant, and the woods and ways

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MISCELLANEOUS.

(PUBLISHED IN 1869.)

NORTHERN FARMER.

NEW STYLE.

I.

DOSN'T thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?

Proputty, proputty, proputty - that's what I 'ears 'em saäy.

Warn't I craäzed fur the lasses mysén when I wur a lad?

But I knaw'd a Quaäker feller as often 'as towd ma this:

"Doänt thou marry for munny, but goä wheer munny is!"

VI.

Proputty, proputty, proputty Sam, An' I went wheer munny war: an' thy

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thou's an ass for thy paaïns:

mother coom to 'and,

Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor | Wi' lots o' munny laaïd by, an' a nicetish

in all thy braaïns.

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bit o' land.

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A PLAGUE upon the people fell,
A famine after laid them low,
Then thorpe and byre arose in fire,

For on them brake the sudden foe;
So thick they died the people cried
"The Gods are moved against the land."
The Priest in horror about his altar
To Thor and Odin lifted a hand :
"Help us from famine
And plague and strife!
What would you have of us?
Human life?

Were it our nearest,
Were it our dearest,
(Answer, O answer)
We give you his life."

II.

But still the foeman spoil'd and burn'd, And cattle died, and deer in wood, And bird in air, and fishes turn'd

And whiten'd all the rolling flood; And dead men lay all over the way,

Ordown in a furrow scathed with flame: And ever and aye the priesthood moan'd Till at last it seem'd that an answer

came :

"The King is happy In child and wife; Take you his dearest, Give us a life."

III.

The Priest went out by heath and hill; They found the mother sitting still; The King was hunting in the wild;

She cast her arms about the child.

The child was only eight summers old,
His face was ruddy, his hair was gold,
His beauty still with his years increased,
He seem'd a victim due to the priest.
The Priest beheld him,
And cried with joy,
"The Gods have answer'd:
We give them the boy."

IV.

The King return'd from out the wild, He bore but little game in hand;

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