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Knight and burgher, lord and dame, Close-latticed to the brooding heat, And round the prow they read her name, And silent in its dusty vines : The Lady of Shalott. A faint-blue ridge upon the right,

An empty river-bed before, Who is this? and what is here?

And shallows on a distant shoie, And in the lighted palace near

In glaring sand and inlets bright. Died the sound of royal cheer ;

But “Ave Mary," made she moan, And they cross'd themselves for fear,

And “Ave Mary,” night and mori, All the knights at Camelot :| And “Ah," she sang, “to be allalone, But Lancelot mused a little space ;

To live forgotten, and love for He said, “She has a lovely face ;

lorn." God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.” She, as her carol sadder grew,

From brow and bosom slowly down Thro’ rosy taper fingers drew

Her streaming curls of deepest brown MARIANA IN THE SOUTH. To left and right, and made appear,

Still-lighted in a secret shrine, With one black shadow at its feet, Her melancholy eyes divine,

The house thro' all the level shines, The home of woe without a tear.

And “Ave Mary," was her moan, To look at her with slight, and say,
“Madonna, sad is night and “ But now thy beauty flows away,
morn”;

So be alone for evermore."
And“Ah," she sang, “to be all alone, “O cruel heart,” she changed her
To live forgotten, and love for

tone,
lorn.”

“And cruel love, whose end is

scorn, Till all the crimson changed, and past Is this the end to be left alone, Into deep orange o'er the sea,

To live forgotten, and die forlorn !” Low on her knees herself she cast,

Before Our Lady murmur'd she; But sometimes in the falling day Complaining, “Mother, give me grace An image seem'd to pass the door,

To help me of my weary load.” To look into her eyes and say,
And on the liquid mirror glow'd

“But thou shalt be alone no more." The clear perfection of her face.

And flaming downward over all “ Is this the form,” she made her From heat to heat the day decreased, moan,

And slowly rounded to the east “ That won his praises night and The one black shadow from the wall. morn?

“The day to night,” she made her And “Ah,” she said, “but I wake

moan, alone,

“ The day to night, the night to I sleep forgotten, I wake forlorn."

morn,

And day and night I am left alone Nor bird would sing, nor lamb would bleat,

To live forgotten, and love forNor any cloud would cross the vault,

lorn." But day increased from heat to heat,

On stony drought and steaming salt ; at eve a dry cicala sung, Till now at noon she slept again,

There came a sound as of the sea; And seem'd knee-deep in mountain

Backward the lattice-blind she flung, grass,

And lean'd upon the balcony. And heard her native breezes pass,

There all in spaces rosy-bright And runlets babbling down the glen.

Large Hesper glitter'd on her tears, She breathed in sleep a lower moan,

And deepening thro' the silent sphere's And murmuring, as at night and heaven over even rose the nicht" morn,

And weeping then she made her She thought, “My spirit is here

moan, alone,

“ The night comes ou that knows Walks forgotten, and is forlorn."

not morn, Dreaming, she knew it was a dream :

When I shall cease to be all alone, She felt he was and was not there.

To live forgotten, and love forShe woke : the babble of the stream

lorn."
Fell, and, without, the steady glare
Shrank one sick willow sere and small.
The river-bed was dusty-white;

ELEÄNORE.
And all the furnace of the light
Struck up against the blinding wall.

She whisper’d, with a stifled moan Tuy dark eyes open'd not,

More inward than at night or morn. I Nor first reveald themselves to English “Sweet Mother, let me not here alone

air. Live forgotten and die forlorn."

For there is nothing here,

Which, from the outward to the inward And, rising, from her bosom drew

brought, Old letters, breathing of her worth, Moulded thy baby thought. For “Love," they said, “must needs be Far off from human neighborhood, true,

Thou wert born, on a summer morn, To what is loveliest upon earth." A mile beneath the cedar-wood. An image seem'd to pass the door, Thy bounteous forehead was not famn'd

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With breezes from our oaken glades, And the steady sunset glow, But thou wert nursed in some delicious That stays upon thee? For in thee land

Is nothing sudden, nothing Of lavish lights, and floating shades :

single ; And flattering thy childish thought

Like two streams of incense free The oriental fairy brought,

Froin one censer, in one At the moment of thy birth,

shrine, From old well-heads of haunted rills,

Thought and motion mingle, And the hearts of purple hills,

Mingle ever. Motions flow
And shadow'd coveson a sunny shore, To one another, even as tho'

Thechoicest wealth of all the earth, They were modulated so
Jewel or shell, or starry ore,

To an unheard melody,
To deck thy cradle, Eleanore.

Which lives about thee,anda sweep

Of richest pauses, evermore

Drawn from each other mellow-sleep; II.

Who may express thee, Eleanore? Or the yellow-banded bees, Thro’ half-open lattices Coming in the scented breeze,

I stand before thee, Eleanore ; Fed thee, a child, lying alone,

I see thy beauty gradually unfold, With whitest honey in fairy gar- Daily and hourly, more and more.

dens cull'd A glorious child, dreaming alone,

| 1 muse, as in a trance, the while Insilk-soft folds, upon yielding down, Comes out thy deep ambrosial smile.

Slowly, as from a cloud of golel, With the hum of swarming bees

I muse, as in a trance, whene'er
Into dreamful slumber lull'al.

The languors of thy love-deep eyes

Float on to me. I would I were
III.

So tranced, so rapt in ecstasies, Who may minister to thee ?

To stand apart, and to adore,

Gazing on thee for evermore, Summer herself should minister

To thee, with fruitage golden-rinded Serene, imperial Eleanore !

On golden salvers, or it may be,
Youngest Autumn, in a bower
Grape-thicken'd from the light, and

Sometimes, with most intensity
blinded

Gazing, I seem to see
With many a deep-hued bell-like

Thought folded over thought, smiling

asleep, Of fragrant trailers, when the air

Slowly awaken'd, grow so full and deep Sleepeth over all the heaven,

In thy large eyes, that, overpower'd quite,
And the crag that fronts the Even,

I cannot veil, or droop my sight,
All along the shadowy shore,

But am as nothing in its light :
Crimsons over an inland mere,

As tho' a star, in inmost heaven set,
Eleanore !

Ev'n while we gaze on it,
Should slowly round his orb, and slowly

grow

To a full face, there like a sun remain How may full-sail'd verse express, Fix'd -- then as slowly fade again, How may measured words adore

And draw itself to what it was before; The full-flowing harmony

So full, so deep, so slow, Of thy swan-like stateliness,

Thought seems to come and go Eleanore ?

In thy large eyes, imperial Eleanore.
The luxuriant symmetry
Of thy floating gracefulness,

VII.
Eleänore?

As thunder-clouds that, hung on high,
Every turn and glance of thine, Roofd the world with doubt and tear,
Every lineament divine,

Floating thro' an evening atmosphere, Eleänore,

Grow golden all about the sky;

VI.

Power

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VIII.

In thee all passion becomes passionless, The slow wise smile that, round about Touch'd by thy spirit's mellowness, | His dusty forehead drily curl’d, Losing his fire and active might | Seem'd half-within and half-without, In a silent meditation,

And full of dealings with the world ? Falling into a still delight, And luxury of contemplation :

In yonder chair I see him sit, As waves that up a quiet cove

Three fingers round the old silvercupRolling slide, and lying still I see his gray eyes twinkle yet

Shadow forth the banks at will : ! At his own jest -- gray eyes lit up Or sometimes they swell and move,

With summer lightnings of a soul Pressing up against the land,

So full of summer warmth, so glad, With motions of the outer sea : So healthy, sound, and clear and whole, And the self-same influence

His memory scarce can make me sad. Controlleth all the soul and sense Of Passion gazing upon thee.

| Yet fill my glass : give me one kiss : His bow-string slacken' l, languid Love,

My own sweet Alice, we must die. Leaning his cheek upon his hand,

There's somewhat in this world amiss Droops both his wings, regarding thee,

Shall be unriddled by and by.
And so would languish evermore,

There's somewhat flows to us in life,
Serene, imperial Eleanore.

But more is taken quite away. Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife,

That we may die the self-same day. But when I see thee roam, with tresses | Have I not found a happy earth ? unconfined,

I least should breathe athought of pain. While the amorous, odorous wind

Would God renew me from my birth Breathes low between the sunset and I'd almost live my life again. the moon;

So sweet it seems with thee to walk, Or, in a shadowy saloon,

| And once again to woo thee mine — On silken cushions half reclined;

It seems in after-dinner talk
I watch thy grace; and in its place

| Across the walnuts and the wine — My heart a charmed slumber keeps,

While I muse upon thy face; To be the long and listless boy
And a languid fire creeps

Late-left an orphan of the squire, Thro' my veins to all my frame, Where this old mansion mounted high Dissolvingly and slowly : soon

Looks down upon the village spire : From thy rose-red lips My name For even here, where I and you Floweth ; and then, as in a swoon, Have lived and loved alone so long, With dinning sound my cars are rife, Each morn my sleep was broken thro My tremulous tongue faltereth, By some wild skylark's matin song. I lose my color, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, And oft I heard the te

? Brimm'a with

a costly death, And oft I heard the tender dow Brimm'd with delirious draughts of

In firry woodlands making moan ; warmest life.

But ere I saw your eyes, my love,
I die with my delight, before I had no motion of my own.
I hear what I would hear from For scarce my life with fancy play'd
thee;

Before I dream'd that pleasant dream ---
Yet tell my name again to me, Still hither thither idly sway'd
I would be dying evermore,

Like those long mosses in the stream. So dying ever, Eleanore.

Or from the bridge I lean'd to hear

The milliam rushing down with noise, THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. And see the minnows everywhere

Tu crystal eddies glance and poise, I see the wealthy miller yet,

The tall flag-flowers when they sprung His double chin, his portly size,

Below the range of stepping-stones, And who that knew him could forget Or those three chestnuts wear, that lung

The busy wrinkles round his eyes ? ! Tu masses thick with milky cones.

But, Alice, what an hour was that, | I knew your taper far away,
When after roving in the woods

And full at heart of trembling hope, T was April then), I came and sat From off the wold I came, and lay

Below the chestnuts, when their buds Upon the freshly-flower'd slope. Were glistening to the breezy blue;

And on the slope, an absent fool, | The deep brook groan'd beneath the mill; I cast me down, nor thought of you, And “by that lain," I thought,“ she But angled in the higher pool.

sits!"

The white chalk-quarry from the hill A love-song I had somewhere read,

í Gicam'd to the llying moon by fits. An echo from a measured strain, “O that I were beside her now! Beat time to nothing in my head

O, will she answer if I call ?
From some old corner of the brain. 10, would she give me vow for vow,
It haunted me, the morning long,

Sweet Alice, if I told her all?"
With weary sameness in the rhymes,
The phantom of a silent song,

Sometimes I saw you sit and spin ;
That went and came a thousand times. And, in the pauses of the wind,

Sometimes I heard you sing within ; Then leapt a trout. In lazy mood

Sometimes your shadow cross'd the I watch'd the little circles die;

blind. They past into the level flood,

At last you rose and moved the light, And there a vision caught my eye;

And the long shadow of the chair The reflex of a beauteous form,

Flitted across into the night, A glowing arm, a gleaming neck,

And all the casement darken'd there. As when a sunbeam wavers warm

Within the dark and dimpled beck. But when at last I dared to speak, For you remember, you had set,

The lanes, you know, were white with

May,
That morning, on the casement-edge
A long green box of mignonette,

Your ripe lips moved not, but your check

| And you were leaning from the ledge :

Flush'u like the coming of the day ; And when I raised my eyes, above

And so it was — half-sly, half-shy, They met with two so full and bright

You would, and would not, little one! Such eyes! I swear to you, my love,

Although I pleaded tenderly, That these have never lost their light.

And you and I were all alone. I loved, and love dispell’d the fear And slowly was my mother brought That I should die an early death :

To yield consent to my desire : For love possess'd the atmosphere,

She wish'd me happy, but she thought And fill the breast with purer breath. I might have look'd a little higher; My mother thought, What ails the boy? | And I was young — too young to wed : For I was alter'd, and began

“Yet must I love her for your sake: To move about the house with joy,

Go fetch your Alice here,” she sail : And with the certain step of man.

Her eyelid quiver'd as she spake. I loved the brimming wave that swam And down I went to fetch my briile :

Thro' quiet meadow's round the mill, But, Alice, you were ill at ease; The sleepy pool above the dam,

This dress and that by turns you triell, The pool beneath it never still,

Too fearful that you should not please. The meal-sacks on the whiten'd floor,

I loved you better for your fears, The dark round of the dripping wheel, I knew you could not look but well ; The very air about the door

And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, Made misty with the floating meal. I kiss'd away before they fell. And oft in ramblings on the wold, I watch'd the little flutterings

When April nights began to blow, The doubt my mother would not ser; And April's crescent glimmer'd cold, She spoke at large of many things,

I saw the village lights below; | And at the last she spoke of me;

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