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II.
At eve the beetle boometh

Athwart the thicket lone :
At noon the wild bee hummeth

About the moss'd headstone : At midnight the moon cometh,

And looketh down alone. Her song the lintwhite swelleth, The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,

The callow throstle lispeth, The slumbrous wave outwelleth,

The babbling runnel crispeth, The hollow grot replieth

Where Claribel low-lieth.

Take, Madam, this poor book of song;

For tho' the faults were thick as dust

In vacant chambers, I could trust Your kindness. May you rule us long,

LILIAN.

And leave us rulers of your blood

As noble till the latest day!

May children of our children say, "She wrought her people lasting good; “Her court was pure; her life serene;

God gave her peace; her land reposed;

A thousand claims to reverence closed In her as Mother, Wife, and Queen; “And statesmen at her council met

Who knew the seasons when to take

Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet. "By shaping some august decree,

Which kept her throne unshaken still

Broad-based upon her people's will, And compass'd by the inviolate sea."

MARCH, 1855.

Airy, fairy Lilian,

Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me Claps her tiny hands above 1116,

Laughing all she can ; She 'll not tell me if she love me,

Cruel little Lilian,

II.

When my passion seeks

Pleasance in love-sighs, She, looking thro' and thro' me Thuroughly to undo me,

Smiling, never speaks :

TO

III.

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So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, To read those laws; an accent very low From beneath her gather'd wimple In blandishment, but a most silver flow

Glancing with black-beaded eyes, Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, Till the lightning laughters dimple Right to the heart and brain, tho' unThe baby-roses in her cheeks;

descried, Then away she flies.

Winning its way with extreme gen

tleness III.

Thro'allthe outworks of suspicious pride;

A courage to endure and to obey ;'
Prythee weer, May Lilian !

A hate of gossip parlance, and of sway,
Gayety without eclipse

Crown'd Isabel, thro' all her placid life, Wearieth me, May Lilian : Thro' my very heart it thrilleth

The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.
When from crimson-threaded lips
Silver-treble laughter trilleth : The mellow'd reflex of a winter moon ;
Prythee weep, May Lilian.

A clear stream flowing with a muddy one,
Till in its onward current it absorbs

With swifter movement and in purer
Praying all I can,

light If prayers will not hush thee,

The vexed eddies of its wayward Airy Lilian,

brother : Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee,

A leaning and upbearing parasite, Fairy Lilian.

Clothing the stem, which else had

fallen quite, With cluster'd flower-bells and ambro

sial orbs ISABEL.

Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each

Shadow forth thee:- the world hath Eyes not down-dropt nor over bright, L not another but fed

| (Tho' all her fairest forms are types of With the clear-pointed flame of chas

thee, tity,

And thou of God in thy great charity) Clear, without heat, undying, tended by Of such a finish'd chasten'd purity. Pure vestal thoughts in the translu

cent fane
Of her still spirit; locks not wide-dispread,

MARIANA.
Madonna - wise on either side her
head;

“Mariana in the moated grange."

Measure for Measure, Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign

With blackest moss the flower-plots The summer calm of golden charity, I Were thickly crusted, one and all : Were fixed shadows of thy fixed mood, The rusted nails fell from the knots

Revered Isabel, the crown and head, That held the pear to the gable-wall. The stately flower of female fortitude, The broken sheds look'd sad and strange : Of perfect wifehood and pure lowli- Unlifted was the clinking latch ; head.

Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.

She only said, “My life is dreary, The intuitive decision of a bright

He cometh not,” she said ; And thorough-edged intellect to part She said, “I am aweary, aweary, Error from crime ; a prudence to I would that I were dead!”

withhold; The laws of marriage character'd in Her tears fell with the dews at even ;

Her tears fell ere the dews were dried ; Upon the blanched tablets of her heart; She could not look on the sweet heaven, A love still burning upward, giving light! Either at morn or eventide.

II.

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After the flitting of the bats,

She only said, “ The day is dreary, When thickest dark did trance the sky, He cometh not,” she said ;

She drew her casement-curtain by, She said, “I am aweary, aweary, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. I would that I were dead !”

Šhe only said, “The night is dreary,

He cometh not,” she said ;
She said, “I am aweary, aweary, About a stone-cast from the wall
I would that I were dead!"

A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,

And o'er it many, round and small, Upon the middle of the night,

| The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: Hard by a poplar shook alway, The cock sung out an hour ere light : All silver-green with gnarled bark :

From the dark fen the oxen's low For leagues no other tree did mark Came to her : without hope of change, The level waste, the rounding gray.

In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, She only said, “My life is dreary, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed He cometh not," she said ; morn

She said, “I am aweary, aweary, About the lonely moated grange.

I would that I were dead !"

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