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And turning look'd upon your face,

Many suns arise and set. As near this door you sat apart,

Many a chance the years be get. And rose, and, with a silent grace

Love the gift is Love the debt. Approaching, press'd you heart to heart.

Even so.

Love is hurt with jar and fret. Al, well – but sing the foolish song

Love is made a vague regret. I gave you, Alice, on the day

Eves with idle tears are wet. When, arm in arm, we went along,

Idle habit links us yet. A pensive pair, and you were gay

What is love? for we forget:
With bridal flowers -- that I may seem,

Ah, no! no!
As in the nights of old, to lie
Beside the mill-wheel in the stream,
While those full chestnuts whisper by.

| Look thro' mine eyes with thine. True


Round my true heart thine arms en: It is the miller's daughter,

twine; And she is grown so dear, so dear, My other dearer life in life, That I would be the jewel

Look thro' my very soul with thine! That trembles at her ear :

Untouch'd with any shadle of years, For hid in ringlets day and night, May those kind eyes forever dwell! I'd touch her neck so warm and white. They have not shed a many tears,

Dear eyes, since first I knew thein well. And I would be the girdle

About her dainty dainty waist. Yet tears they shed: they had their part And her heart would beat against me,

Of sorrow : for when time was ripe, In sorrow' and in rest :

The still affection of the heart And I should know if it beat right,

Became an outward breathing type, I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

That into stillness past again,

And left a want known before ; And I would be the necklace,

Although the loss that bronght us pain, And all day long to fall and rise

That loss but made us love the more, Upon her balmy bosom,

With farther lookings on. The kiss, With her laughter or her sighs,

The woven arms, seem but to be
And I would lie so light, so light,
I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.

Weak symbols of the settled bliss,

The comfort, I have found in thee :

But that God bless thee, dear – who A trifle, sweet! which true love spells —

wrought True love interprets — right alone.

Two spirits to one equal mind His light upon the letter dwells,

With blessings bevond hope or thought, For all the spirit is his own.

With blessings which no words can find So, if I waste words now, in truth You must blame Love. His early rage

Arise, and let us wander forth, Had force to make me rhyme in youth,

To yon old will across the wolils; And makes me talk too much in age.

For look, the sunset, south and north,

Winds all the vale in rosy folds, Anıl now those vivid hours are gone,

| And fires your narrow casement glass, Like mine own life to me thou art,

Touching the sullen pool below : Where Past and Present, wound in one,

On the chalk-hill the beardei grass Do make a garland for the heart :

Is dry and dewless. Let us go. So sing that other song I made,

Half-anger'd with my happy lot, The day, when in the chestnut shade

FATIMA. I found the blue Forget-me-not.

O Love, Love, Love ! O withering might!

O sun, that from thy noonday height
Love that hath us in the net, Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Can he pass, and we forget ? Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,

Lo, falling from my constant minh, The lawns and meadow-ledges midway Lo, parch'd and witheril, deaf an

clown blind,

| Hang rich in flowers, and far below them I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.


The long brook falling thro' the clov'n Last night I wasted hateful hours

ravine Below the city's eastern towers :

In cataract after cataract to the sea.
I thirsted for the brooks, the showers : Belind the valley topmost Gargarus
I rolld among the tender flowers : Stands up and takes the morning : but

Terush'il them on my breast, my mouth:1 in front
I look l athwart the burning drouth The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Of that long desert to the south. Troas and Ilion's colum 'd citadel,

The crown of Troas,
Last night, when someone spoke his name,

Hither came at noon From my swift blood that went and came Mournful (Enoue, wandering forlorn I thousand little shafts of flame

Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills. Wire shiver’d in my narrow frame. Her cheek had lost the rose, and round O Love, () fire ! once he drew

her neck With one long kiss my whole soul thro' Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. She, leaning on a fragment twined with

vine, Before he mounts the hill, I know Sang to the stillness, till the mountainHe cometh quickly : from below Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow Sloped downward to her seat from the Before him, striking on my brow.

upper cliff. lu my alry brain my spirit soon, Down-keepening from swoon to swoon, 1 “() mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Faints like a dazzled morning moon. Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.

For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: The wind sounds like a silver wire, The grasshopper is silent in the grass : And from beyond the noon a fire The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Is poured upon the hills, and nigher Rests like a shadow, and the cicala sleeps. The skies stoop down in their desire ; The purple flowers (Iroop : the golden bee

And, isted in sudden seas of light, Is lily-craille : I alone awake. My heart, pierced thro' with fierce de- My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, light,

| My heart is breaking, and myeyes are dim, Bursts into blossom in his sight. And I am all aweary of my life.


My whole soul waiting silently,

“() mother Ida, manv-fountain'd Ida, All vaked in a sultry sky,

Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Droops blinded with his shining eye : Hear me, ( Earth, hear me, O Hills, () I will possess him or will die.

Caves I will grow round him in his place, That house the cold crown'd snake! 0 Grow, live, die looking on his face,

mountain brooks,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace. I am the daughter of a River-Gol,

Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls

Rose slowly to a music slowly breathe,

A cloud that gather'il shape: for it may be

That, while I speak of it, a little while THERE lies a vale in lda, lovelier My heart may wander from its deeper woc. Than all the valleys of lonian hills. The swimming vapor slopes athwart the “() mother Ida, many-fountain' Ida,

Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine I waited underneath the dawning hills, to pine,

Alost the mountain lawn was clewy-clark, And loiters, slowly drawn. Oncither hand | And dewy-adrk aloft the mountain pine:

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Beautiful laris, evil-hearted Paris, Behind yon whisperingtuft of oldest pine, Leaving a jet-black goat white-horn'd, Mayst well behold them unbeheld, un white-hooved,

heard Came up from reedy Simois all alone. Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods.'

“() mother Ida, harken ere I die. “Dear mother Ida, harken cre I die. Far-off the torrent call’d me from the It was the deep midņoon : one silvery cleft:

cloud Far up the solitary morning smote Had lost his way between the piney sides The streaks of virgin snow. With down. Of this long glen. Then to the bower dropt eyes

they came, | sat alone : white-breasted like a star Naked they came to that smooth-swarded Fronting the dawn he moved ; a leopard bower, skin

Andat their feet the crocus brake like fire, Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, hair

Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose, Cluster'd about his temples like a God's : | And overhead the wandering ivy anı vine, And his cheek brighten'd as the foam- This way and that, in many a wild festoon bow brightens

Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs When the wind blows the foam, and all With bunch and berry and flower thro' my heart

and thro'. Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.

“O mother Ida, harken ere I die.

On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit, “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud, and Hesmiled, and opening out his milk-white lean'd palm

Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew'. Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold, Then first I heard the voice of her, to Thatsmelt ambrosially, and while I look'd whom And listen'd, the full-flowing river of Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that speech

grows Came down upon my heart.

| Larger and clearer, with one mind the “My own Enone, Gods Beautiful-brow'd Enone, my own soul, Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind Proffer of royal power, ample rule ingrav'n

| Unquestion'd, overflowing revenue “For the most fair," would seem to award Wherewith to embellish state, 'from it thine,

nany a vale As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt And river-sunder'd champaign clothed The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace Of movement, and the charm of married Or labor'd mines undrainable of ore. brows.'

Honor,' she said, "and homage, tax and

toll, “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. From many an inland town and haven He prest the blossom of his lips to mine, large, And added “This was cast upon the board, | Mast-throng'd beneath her shadowing When all the full-faced presence of the citadel Gods

In glassy bays among her tallest towers.' Ranged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon Rose feud, with question unto whom

“O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 't were due :

Still she spake on and still she spake of But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve, power, Delivering, that to me, by common voice,. Which in all action is the end of all ; Elected umpire, Here comes to-day, Power fitted to the season ; wisdom-bred Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each And throned of wisdom -- from all neighThis meed of fairest. Thou, withiu the bor crowns cave

| Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand

Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon, Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, from me,

Commeasure perfect freedom.' Froin me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to

Here she ceased, thee king-born,

And Paris ponder'd, and I cried, “O Paris, A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born, Give it to Pallas !' but he heard me not, Should come most welcome, seeing men, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me!

in power, Only, are likest gods, who have attain'd

" () mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Rest in a happy place and quiet seats

Dear mother lila, harken ere I die.

D. Above the thunder, with undying bliss

Idalian Aphrodite beautiful, In knowledge of their own supremacy.'

Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian

wells, “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. With rosy slender fingers backward drew She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit From her warm brows and bosom her Out at arin's-length, so much the thought deep hair of power

| Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat Flatter'd his spirit; but Pallas where she | And shoulder : from the violets her light stood

foot Somewhat apart, herclearand bared limbs Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed form spear

Between the shadows of the vine-bunches Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, Floated the glowing sunlights, as she The while, above, her full and earnest eye moved. Overhersnow-cold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.

“Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.

She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, "Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self- The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh control,

Half-whisper'il in his ear, 'I promise thee These three alone lead life to sovereign The fairest and most loving wife in Greece.' power.

She spoke and laugh'd : I shut my sight Yet not for power, (power of herself

for fear : Would come uncall’à for) but to live by But when I look'd, Paris had raised his law,

arm, Acting the law we live by without fear ; And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, And, because right is right, to follow right As she withdrew into the golden cloud, Were wisdom in the scorn of conse- And I was left alone within the bower; quence.'

| And from that time to this I am alone,

And I shall be alone until I die. “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Again she said: 'I woothee not with gifts. “Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Sequel of guerdon could not alter me Fairest --- why fairest wife ? am I not fair! To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, My love hath told me so a thousand times, So shalt thou find me fairest.

Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday,

Yet, indeed, When I past by, a wild and wanton pari, If gazing on divinity disrobed

Eyed like the evening star, with playful Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, tail Unbiass'd by self-profit, 0, rest thee sure Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most That I shall love thee well and cleave to loving is she?

Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood, Shall strike within thy pulses, like a Were wound about thee, and my hot lips God's,

prest To push thee forward thro'a life of shocks, Close, close to thine in that quick-falling Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow I dew Sinew'd with action, and the full-grown Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains will,

Flash in the pools of whirling Siinois.


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“O mother, hear me yet before I die. Do shape themselves within me, more They came, they cut away my tallest pines, and more, My dark tall pines, that plumed the Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear craggy ledge

Dead sounds at night come from the inHigh over the blue gorge, and all between most hills, The snowy peak and snow-white cataract Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see Foster'd the callow eaglet- from beneath My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother Whose thick mysterious boughs in the Conjectures of the features of her child dark morn

Ere it is born : her child ! - a shudder The panther's roar came muffled, while I

comes sat

Across me : never child be born of me, Low in the valley. Never, never more Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes! Shall lone (Enone see the morning mist Sweep thro' them ; never see them over “() mother, hear me yet before I die.

Hear me, ( earth. I will not die alone, With narrow moon-lit slips of silvercloud, Lest their shrill happy laughtercome to me Between the loud stream and the trembling Walking the cold and starless road of stars.


Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love “() mother, hear me yet before I die. With the Greek woman. I will rise and go I wish that somewhere in the ruin'd folds, Down into Troy, and ere the stars come Among the fragments tumbled from the

forth glens,

Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her, | A fire dances before her, and a sound The Abominable, that uninvited came Rings ever in her ears of armed men. Into the fair Peležan banquet-hall, What this may be I know not, but I know And cast the golden fruit upon the board, That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day, And bred this change; that I might speak All earth and air seem only burning fire.

my mind, And tell her to her face how much I hate Her presence, hated both of Gods and


We were two daughters of one race : “O mother, hear me yet before I die. She was the fairest in the face : Hath he not sworn his love a thousand! The wind is blowing in turret and tree times,

| They were together, and she fell ; In this green valley, under this green hill, Therefore revenge became me well. Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this O the Earl was fair to see !

stone ? Seal'd it with kisses ? water'd it with She died : she went to burning flame : tears?

She mix'd her ancient blood with shame. O happy tears, and how unlike to these ! The wind is howling in turret and tree. O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my whole weeks and months, and early and

face? O happy earth, how canst thou bear my To win his love I lay in wait : weight?

O the Earl was fair to see! O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud,

I made a feast ; I bade him come; There are enough unhappy on this earth, I won his love, I brought him home, Pass by the happy souls, that love to live : The wind is roaring in turret and tree. I pray thee, pass before my light of life, And after supper, on a bed, And shadow all my soul, that I may die. Upon my lap he laid his head : Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, O the Earl was fair to see ! Weigh heavy on my eyelids : let me die.

I kiss'd his eyelids into rest : O mother, hear me yet before I die. His ruddy cheek upon my breast. I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts I The wind is raging in turret and tree.


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