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So dear a life your arms enfold

| We might discuss the Northern sin Whose crying is a cry for gold :

Which made a selfish war begin ; Yet here to-night in this dark city, Dispute the claims, arrange the When ill and weary, alone and cold,

chances ; I found, tho' crush'd to hard and dry,

Emperor, Ottoman, which shall win : This nursling of another sky

Or whether war's avenging rod Still in the little book you lent me, Shall lash all Europe into blood ; And where you tenderly laid it by : Till you should turn to dearer matters, And I forgot the clouded Forth,

Dear to the man that is dear to God; The gloom that saddens Heaven and

How best to help the slender store,
Earth,

How mend the dwellings, of the poor ; The bitter east, the misty summer

How gain in life, as life advances, And gray metropolis of the North.

Valor and charity more and more.
Perchance, to lull the throbs of pain,
Perchance, to charm a vacant brain,

Come, Maurice, come: the lawn as yet Perchance, to dream you still beside me,

Is hoar with rime, or spongy-wet; My fancy fled to the South again.

But when the wreath of March has

blossom'd,

Crocus, anemone, violet, TO THE REV. F. D. MAURICE.

Or later, pay one visit here, Come, when no graver cares employ,

For those are few we hold as dear; God-father, come and see your boy: | Nor pay but one, but come for many,

Your presence will be sun in winter, Many and many a happy year.
Making the little one leap for joy.

January, 1854.
For, being of that honest few,
Who give the Fiend himself his due,

WILL.
Should eighty-thousand college-coun.

cils Thunder - Anathema,” friend, at you ; 10 WELL for him whose will is strong!

He suffers, but he will not suffer long; Should all our churchmen foam in spite He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong: At you, so careful of the right,

For him nor moves the loud world's ran, Yet one lay-hearth would give you dom mock, welcome

Norall Calamity's hugest waves confound, (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight ; Who seems a promontory of rock,

That, compass'd round with turbulent Where, far from noise and smoke of town, sound, I watch the twilight falling brown

In middle ocean meets the surging shock, All round a careless-order'd garden

| Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. Close to the ridge of a noble down.

II. You 'll have no scandal while you dine,

ine, But ill for him who, bettering not with But honest talk and wholesome wine,

time, And only hear the magpie gossip

Corrupts the strength of heaven - de Garrulous under a roof of pine :

scended Will For groves of pine on either hand,

And ever weaker grows thro'acted crime, To break the blast of winter, stand;

Or seeming-genial venial fault, And further on, the hoary Channel

Recurring and suggesting still ! Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand ;

He seems as one whose footsteps halt.

Toiling in immeasurable sand, Where, if below the milky steep And o'er a weary, sultry land, Some ship of battle slowly creep, Far beneath a blazing vault,

And on thro' zones of light and shadow Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill, Glimmer away to the lonely deep, The city sparkles like a grain of salt.

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While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

All the world wonderd :
Plunged in the battery-smoke,
Right thro' the line they broke ;
Cossack and Russian
Reeld from the sabre-stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

y.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd ;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,

VI.
When can their glory fade ?
O the wild charge they mado!

All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made !
Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred !

ENOCH ARDEN,

AND OTHER POEMS.
ENOCH ARDEN. 1 A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff :

| In this the children play'd at keeping Long lines of cliff breaking have left a house. chasm;

Enoch was host one day, Philip the next, And in the chasm are foam and yellow While Annie still was mistress ; but at sands;

times Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf Enoch would hold possession for a week : In cluster; then a moulder'd church ; “This is my house and this my little wife.” and higher

“Mine too" said Philip “turn and turn A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd about": mill;

When, if they quarrell’d, Enoch stronAnd high in heaven behind it a gray down ger-made With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood, Was master : then would Philip, his By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes

blue eyes Green in a cuplike hollow of the down. | All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears,

Shriek out “I hate you, Enoch," and at Here on this beach a hundred years ago, Three children of three houses, Annie Lee, The little wife would weep for company, The prettiest little damsel in the port, And pray them not to quarrel for her sake, And Philip Ray the miller's only son, And say she would be little wife to both. And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, But when the dawn of rosy childhood play'd

past, Among the waste and lumber of the shore, And the new warmth of life's ascending Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing sun nets,

Was felt by either, either fixt his heart Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats up. On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love, drawn ;

But Philip loved in silence; and the girl And built their castles of dissolving sand Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to him ; To watch them overflow'd, or following But she loved Enoch ; tho'she knew it not, up

| And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set And flying the white breaker, daily left A purpose evermore before his eyes, The little footprint daily wash'd away. To hoard all savings to the uttermost,

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To purchase his own boat, and make a With children ; first a daughter. In home

him woke, For Annie : and so prosper'd that at last With his first babe's first cry, the noble A luckier or a bolder fisherman,

wish A carefuller in peril, did not breathe To save all earnings to the uttermost, For leagues along that breaker-beaten And give his child a better bringing-up coast

Than his had been, or hers; a wish reThan Enoch. Likewise had he served a new'd, year

When two years after came a boy to be On board a merchantman, and made The rosy idol of her solitudes, himself

While Enoch was abroad on wrathfulseas, Full sailor ; and he thrice had pluck'd a Or often journeying landward ; for in life

truth From the dread sweep of the down-Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's oceanstreaming seas :

spoil And all inen look'd upon him favorably : In ocean-smelling osier, and his face, And ere he touch'd his one-and-twen- Rough-redden'd with a thousand winter

tieth May He purchased his own boat, and made a Not only to the market-cross were known, home

But in the leafy lanes behind the down, For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway up | Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp, The narrow street that clamber'd toward | And peacock-yewtree of the lonely Hall, the mill.

Whose Friday fare was Enoch's minister

gales,

ing.

hill,

Then, on a golden autumn eventide, The younger people making holiday, Then came a change, as all things huWith bag and sack and basket, great man change. and small,

| Ten milesto northward of the narrow port Went nutting to the hazels. Philipstay'd | Open'd a larger haven : thither used (His father lying sick and needing him) Enoch at times to go by land or sea; An hour behind; but as he climb'd the And once when there, and clambering on

a mast Just where the prone edge of the wood In harbor, by mischance heslipt and fell: began

A limb was broken when they lifted im; To feather toward the hollow, saw the pair, And while helay recovering there, his wife Enoch and Aunie, sitting hand-in-hand, Bore him another son, a sickly one : His large gray eyes and weather-beaten Another hand crept too across his trade face

Taking her bread and theirs : and on All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,

him fell, That burn'd ason an altar. Philiplook'd, | Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man, And in theireyes and faces read his doom ; Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom. Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd, He seem'd, as in a nightmare of the night, And slipt aside, and like a wounded life' To see his children leading evermore Crept down into the hollows of the wood ; | Low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth, There, while the rest were loud in merry- And her, he loved, a beggar : then he making,

pray'd Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and “Save them from this, whatever comes past

to me." Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart. And while he pray'd, the master of that

ship So these were wed, and merrily rang Enoch had served in, hearing his mis. the bells,

chance, And merrily ran the years, seven happy Came, for he knew the man and valued years,

him, Seven-happy years of health and compe- Reporting of his vessel China bound, tence,

And wanting yet a boatswain. Would And mutual love and honorable toil; I he go ?

plans ;

There yet were many weeks before she | Yet not with brawling opposition she, sail'd,

But manifold entreaties, many a tear, Sail'd from this port. Would Enoch Many a sad kiss by day by night renew'd have the place ?

(Sure that all evil would come out of it) And Enoch all at once assented to it, Besought him, supplicating, if he cared Rejoicing at that answer to his prayer. For her or his dear children, not to go.

He not for his own self caring but her, So now that shadow of mischance ap- Her and her children, let her plead in pear'd

vain ; No graver than as when some little cloud So grieving held his will, and bore it Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun,

thro'. And isles a light in the offing : yet the wife

For Enoch parted with his old seaWhen he was gone - the children --| friend, what to do?

Bought Annie goods and stores, and set Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his his hand

| To fit their little streetward sitting-room To sell the boat - and yet he loved her With shelf and corner for the goods and well

stores. How many a rough sea had he weather’d So all day long till Enoch's last at home, in her!

Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse —

Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to hear And yet to sell her – then with what she Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill'd brought

and rang, Buy goods and stores -- set Annie forth Till this was ended, and his careful in trade

hand, With all that seamen needed or their The space was narrow, — having order'd

wives So might she keep the house while he Almost as neat and close as Nature packs was gone.

Her blossom or her seedling, paused ; Should he not trade himself out yonder ? and he,

Who needs would work for Annie to the This voyage more than once ? yea twice last, or thrice

Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn. As oft as needed — last, returning rich, Become the master of a larger craft, And Enoch faced this morning of fareWith fuller profits lead an easier life,

well Have all his pretty young ones educated, | Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's fears, And pass his days in peace among his own. Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to

him. Thus Enoch in his heart determinedall: Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man Then moving homeward came on Annie Bow'd himself down, and in that mystery pale,

Where God-in-man is one with man-inNursing the sickly babe, her latest-born. God, Forward she started with a happy cry, Pray'd fora blessing on his wife and babes And laid the feeble infant in his arms; Whatever came to him : and then he said Whom Enoch took, and handled all his “ Annie, this voyage by the grace of God limbs,

Will bring fair weather yet to all of us. Appraised his weight and fondled father- | Keep a clean hearth and a clearfire for me,

For I'll be back, my girl, before you But had no heart to break his purposes know it." To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke. Then lightly rocking baby's cradle “and

all

like,

he,

Then first since Enoch's golden ring This pretty, puny, weakly little one,

Nay — for I love him all the better for Her finger, Annie fought against his will : i t

had girt

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