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CALAIS SANDS

A THOUSAND knights have rein'd their steeds
To watch this line of sand-hills run,
Along the never-silent Strait,

To Calais glittering in the sun;

To look tow'rd Ardres' Golden Field
Across this wide aërial plain,
Which glows as if the Middle Age
Were gorgeous upon earth again.

Oh, that to share this famous scene,
I saw, upon the open sand,

Thy lovely presence at my side,

Thy shawl, thy look, thy smile, thy hand!

How exquisite thy voice would come,
My darling, on this lonely air!

How sweetly would the fresh sea-breeze
Shake loose some band of soft brown hair!

Yet now my glance but once hath roved
O'er Calais and its famous plain;
To England's cliffs my gaze is turn'd,
On the blue strait mine eyes I strain.

Thou comest! Yes! the vessel's cloud
Hangs dark upon the rolling sea.
Oh, that yon sea-bird's wings were mine,
To win one instant's glimpse of thee !

I must not spring to grasp thy hand,
To woo thy smile, to seek thine eye;
But I stand far off, and gaze,
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And watch thee pass unconscious by,

And spell thy looks, and guess thy thoughts,
Mixt with the idlers on the pier.
Ah, might I always rest unseen,
So I might have thee always near!

To-morrow hurry through the fields,
Of Flanders to the storied Rhine!
To-night those soft-fringed eyes shall close
Beneath one roof, my queen! with mine.

SWITZERLAND

I. MEETING

AGAIN I see my bliss at hand,
The town, the lake are here;
My Marguerite smiles upon the strand,
Unalter'd with the year.

I know that graceful figure fair,
That cheek of languid hue;

I know that soft, enkerchief'd hair,
And those sweet eyes of blue.

Again I spring to make my choice;
Again in tones of ire

I hear a God's tremendous voice:
"Be counsell'd, and retire."

Ye guiding Powers who join and part,
What would ye have with me?

Ah, warn some more ambitious heart,
And let the peaceful be!

2. PARTING

YE storm-winds of Autumn!
Who rush by, who shake
The window, and ruffle
The gleam-lighted lake;
Who cross to the hill-side
Thin-sprinkled with farms,
Where the high woods strip sadly
Their yellowing arms —

Ye are bound for the mountains!

Ah! with you let me go

Where your cold, distant barrier,

The vast range of snow,

Through the loose clouds lifts dimly

Its white peaks in air —

How deep is their stillness!

Ah, would I were there!

But on the stairs what voice is this I hear, Buoyant as morning, and as morning clear?

Say, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn
Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?

Or was it from some sun-fleck'd mountain-brook
That the sweet voice its upland clearness took?
Ah! it comes nearer

Sweet notes, this way!

Hark! fast by the window
The rushing winds go,
To the ice-cumber'd gorges,
The vast seas of snow!

There the torrents drive upward
Their rock-strangled hum;
There the avalanche thunders
The hoarse torrent dumb.

I come, O ye mountains!
Ye torrents, I come!

But who is this, by the half-open'd door,
Whose figure casts a shadow on the floor?
The sweet blue eyes -the soft, ash-colour'd hair-
The cheeks that still their gentle paleness wear-
The lovely lips, with their arch smile that tells
The unconquer'd joy in which her spirit dwells –
Ah! they bend nearer
Sweet lips, this way!

Hark! the wind rushes past us!

Ah! with that let me go

To the clear, waning hill-side,

Unspotted by snow,

There to watch, o'er the sunk vale,

The frore mountain-wall,

Where the niched snow-bed sprays down

Its powdery fall.

There its dusky blue clusters

The aconite spreads;

There the pines slope, the cloud-strips

Hung soft in their heads.

No life but, at moments,
The mountain-bee's hum.
I come, O ye mountains!
Ye pine-woods, I come!

*395

Forgive me! forgive me!
Ah, Marguerite, fain

Would these arms reach to clasp thee!
But see! 't is in vain.

In the void air, towards thee,
My stretch'd arms are cast;
But a sea rolls between us -
Our different past!

To the lips, ah! of others
Those lips have been prest,

And others, ere I was,

Were strain'd to that breast;

Far, far from each other

Our spirits have grown;

And what heart knows another?
Ah! who knows his own?

Blow, ye winds! lift me with you!
I come to the wild.

Fold closely, O Nature!

Thine arms round thy child.

To thee only God granted

A heart ever new

To all always open,
To all always true.

Ah! calm me, restore me;
And dry up my tears
On thy high mountain-platforms,
Where morn first appears;

Where the white mists, for ever,
Are spread and upfurl'd --
In the stir of the forces
Whence issued the world.

3. A FAREWELL

My horse's feet beside the lake,

Where sweet the unbroken moonbeams lay,

Sent echoes through the night to wake

Each glistening strand, each heath-fringed bay.

The poplar avenue was pass'd

And the roof'd bridge that spans the stream ;
Up the steep street I hurried fast,
Led by thy taper's starlike beam.

I came! I saw thee rise ! - the blood
Pour'd flushing to thy languid cheek.
Lock'd in each other's arms we stood,
In tears, with hearts too full to speak.

Days flew; ah, soon I could discern

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A trouble in thine alter'd air!

Thy hand lay languidly in mine,

Thy cheek was grave, thy speech grew rare.

-

I blame thee not!- this heart, I know,
To be long loved was never framed ;
For something in its depths doth glow
Too strange, too restless, too untamed.

And women — things that live and move
Mined by the fever of the soul -
They seek to find in those they love
Stern strength, and promise of control.

They ask not kindness, gentle ways -
These they themselves have tried and known;
They ask a soul which never sways
With the blind gusts that shake their own.

I too have felt the load I bore
In a too strong emotion's sway;
I too have wish'd, no woman more,
This starting, feverish heart away.

I too have long'd for trenchant force,
And will like a dividing spear;

Have praised the keen, unscrupulous course,
Which knows no doubt, which feels no fear.

But in the world I learnt, what there
Thou too wilt surely one day prove,
That will, that energy, though rare,
Are yet far, far less rare than love.

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