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And so fill up the gap where force might | And crown'd with fleshless laughter fail

some ten steps — With skill and fineness. Instant were in the half-light - thro' the dim dawn his words.


The monster, and then paused, and Then Gareth, “Here be rules. 1 spake no word.

know but oneTo dash against mine enemy and to But Gareth spake and all indignantly, win.

“ Fool, for thou hast, men say, the Yet have I watch'd thee victor in the strength of ten, joust,

Canst thou not trust the limbs thy God And seen thy way.” “Heaven help hath given, thee," sigh'd Lynette.

But must, to make the terror of thee

more, Then for a space, and under cloud that Trick thyself out in ghastly imageries grew

Of that which Life hath done with, and To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they the clod, rode

Less dull than thou, will hide with In converse till she made her palfry halt, mantling flowers Lifted an arm, and softly whisper'd, As if for pity ?” But he spake no word ; “There."

Which set the horror higher : a maiden And all the three were silent seeing, swoon'd; pitch'd

The Lady Lyonors wrung her hands and Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field,

wept, A huge pavilion like a mountain peak As doom'd to be the bride of Night and Sunder the glooming crimson on the

Death ; marge,

Sir Gareth's head prickled beneath his Black, with black banner, and a long helm; black horn

And ev'n Sir Lancelot thro' his warm Beside it hanging ; which Sir Gareth blood felt graspt,

Ice strike, and all that mark'd him were And so, before the two could hinder him, aghast. Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn.

At once Sir Lancelot's charger fiercely Echo'd the walls ; a light twinkled ; anon neigh'd Came lights and lights, and once again At once the black horse bounded forward he blew ;

with him. Whereon were hollow tramplings up and Then those that did not blink the terror, down

saw And muffled voices heard, and shadows That Death was cast to ground, and past;

slowly rose. Till high above him, circled with her But with one stroke Sir Gareth split the maids,

skull. The Lady Lyonors at a window stood, Half fell to right and half to left and lay. Beautiful among lights, and waving to Then with a stronger buffet he clove the

him White hands, and courtesy ; but when As throughly as the skull; and out the Prince

from this Three times had blown — after long Issued the bright face of a blooming boy hush - at last

| Fresh as a flower new-born, and crying, The huge pavilion slowly yielded up, I “Knight, Thro' those black foldings, that which Slay me not: my three brethren bad me housed therein.

I do it, High on a nightblack horse, in night. To make a horror all about the house, black arms,

And stay the world from Lady Lyonors. With white breast-bone, and barren ribs They never dream'd the passes would be


of Death,


Answer'd Sir Gareth graciously to one | And Lady Lyonors and her house, with Not many a moon his younger, “My fair child,

And revel and song, made merry over What madness made thee challenge the Death, chief knight

As being after all their foolish fears Of Arthur's hall ?” “Fair Sir, they bad And horrors only prov'n a blooming me do it.

boy. They hate the King, and Lancelot, the So large mirth lived and Gareth won the King's friend,

quest. They hoped to slay him somewhere on the stream,

And he that told the tale in older They never dream'd the passes could be

Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyo

nors, Then sprang the happier day from un- But he, that told it later, says Lyderground;




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O LOYAL to the royal in thyself, And welcome ! witness, too, the silent
And loyal to thy land, as this to thee - 1. cry,
Bear witness, that rememberable day The prayer of many a race and creed, and
When, pale as yet, and fever-worn, the clime -

| Thunderless lightnings striking under Who scarce had pluck'd his flickering sea life again

From sunset and sunrise of all thy realm, From half-way down the shadow of the And that true North, whereof we lately grave,

heard Past with thee thro' thy people and their A strain to shame us “keep you to yourlove,

selves; And London roll'd one tide of joy thro' all so loyal is too costly! friends, your love Her trebled millions, and loud leagues Is but a burthen: loose the bond, and go." of man

| Is this the tone of empire ? here the faith


That made us rulers ? this, indeed, her | Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time voice

| That hover'd between war and wantonAnd meaning, whom the roar of Hou ness, goumont

And crownings and dethronements : take Left mightiest of all peoples under heaven? withal What shock has fool'd her since, that she i Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that should speak

Heaven So feebly? wealthier — wealthier — hour Will blow the tempest in the distance back by hour!

From thine and ours : for some are scared, The voice of Britain, or a sinking land, who mark, Some third-rate isle half-lost among her Or wisely or unwisely, signs of storm, seas?

Waverings of every vane with every wind, There rang her voice, when the full city | And wordy trucklings to the transient peal'd

hour, Thee and thy Prince! The loyal to their | And fierce or careless looseners of the

faith, Are loyal to their own far sons, who love And Softness breeding scorn of simple Our ocean-empire with her boundless life, homes

Or Cowardice, the child of lust for gold, For ever-broadening England, and her Or Labor, with a groan and not a voice, throne

Or Art, with poisonous honey stol'n from In our vast Orient, and one isle, one France, isle,

And that which knows, but careful for That knows not her own greatness : if she itself, knows

And that which knows not, ruling that And dreads it we are fall'n. — But thou, which knows my Queen,

To its own harm : the goal of this great Not for itself, but thro’ thy living love

world For one to whom I made it o'er his grave Lies beyond sight: yet - if our slowlySacred, accept this old imperfect tale,

grown New-old, and shadowing Sense at war And crown'd Republic's crowning comwith Soul

mon sense, Rather than that gray king, whose name, That saved her inany times, not fail — a ghost,

their fears Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from Are morning shadows huger than the mountain peak,

shapes And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still ; That cast them, not those gloomier which or him

forego Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, The darkness of that battle in the West, one

{ Where all of high and holy dies away.



MARCH, 1874.




For thrones and peoples are as waifs that The Son of him with whom we strove


And float or fall, in endless ebb and for power

flow; Whose will is lord thro' all his world

But who love best have best the grace domain Who made the serf a man, and burst That Love by right divine is deathless

to know
his chain -
Has given our Prince his own Imperial

Marie-Alexandrovna !

And welcome, Russian flower, a people's

And Love has led thee to the stranger To Britain, when her flowers begin to

land, blow !

Where men are bold and strongly say From love to love, from home to home

their say ;you go,

See, empire upon empire smiles to-day, From mother unto mother, stately bride, As thou with thy young lover hand in Marie-Alexandrovna.

Alexandrovna !

So now thy fuller life is in the West, The golden news along the steppes is Whose hand at home was gracious to blown,

thy poor : And at thy name the Tartar tents are Thy name was blest within the narrow stirred;

door ; Elburz and all the Caucasus have Here also, Marie, shall thy name be blest, heard ;

Marie-Alexandrovna ! And all the sultry palms of India known,

Alexandrovna. The voices of our universal sea,

of Shall fears and jealous hatreds flame On capes of Africas on cliffs of Kent,

again? The Maoris and that Isle of Conti

until Or at thy coming, Princess, every

where, nent,

| The blue heaven break, and some di. And loyal pines of Canada murmur thee,

viner air Marie-Alexandrovna !

Breathe thro' the world and change the hearts of men,

Alexandrovna ? Fair Empires branching, both, in lusty But hearts that change not, love that life !

cannot cease, Yet Harold's England fell to Norman And peace be yours, the peace of soul swords ;

in soul ! Yet thine own land has bow'd to Tar- And howsoever this wild world may tar hordes

roll, Since English Harold gave its throne a Between your peoples truth aná manful wife,

peace, Alexandrovna !)

Alfred - Alexandrovna!




IN THE GARDEN AT SWAIN- 1“I am the voice of the Peak,

I roar and rave for I fall.

NightINGALES warbled without, “A thousand voices go
Within was weeping for thee :

To North, South, East, and West;
Shadows of three dead men

They leave the heights and are troubled, Walk'd in the walks with me,

And moan and sink to their rest. Shadows of three dead men, and thou wast one of the three.

“ The fields are fair beside them,

The chestnut towers in his bloom ; Nightingales sang in his woods :

But they — they feel the desire of the The Master was far away :

deep Nightingales warbled and sang

Fall, and follow their doom.
Of a passion that lasts but a day ;
Still in the house in his coffin the Prince

“The deep has power on the height, of courtesy lay.

And the height has power on the deep; Two dead men have I known

| They are raised for ever and ever,

And sink again into sleep."
In courtesy like to thee :
Two dead men have I loved
With a love that ever will be :

Not raised for ever and ever,
Three dead men have I loved, and thou

| But when their cycle is o'er,
art last of the three.

The valley, the voice, the peak, the star,
Pass, and are found no more.

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