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Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou The bride had consented, the gallant came late;

art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
O the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets |
The same look which she turned when he rose !
THOMAS MOORE ("Irish Melodies").

WERE I AS BASE AS IS THE LOWLY
PLAIN.

WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble

swain

Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love.

Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Whereso'er you were, with you my Love should
go.

Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were
done.

Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,
Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

LOCHINVAR,

O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;

And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had

none,

He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochin-

var.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,

He swam the Eske River where ford there was

none;

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

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FROM THE DAY DREAM."

AND on her lover's arm she leant,

And round her waist she felt it fold; And far across the hills they went

In that new world which is the old. Across the hills, and far away

Beyond their utmost purple rim, And deep into the dying day,

The happy princess followed him. "I'd sleep another hundred years, O love, for such another kiss!" "O wake forever, love," she hears,

"O love, 't was such as this and this." And o'er them many a sliding star,

And many a merry wind was borne, And, streamed through many a golden bar, The twilight melted into morn.

"O eyes long laid in happy sleep!"

"O happy sleep, that lightly fled !" "O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!" "O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!" And o'er them many a flowing range

Of vapor buoyed the crescent bark; And, rapt through many a rosy change, The twilight died into the dark.

"A hundred summers! can it be?

And whither goest thou, tell me where ! "O, seek my father's court with me,

For there are greater wonders there."

And o'er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,

Through all the world she followed him.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

THE EVE OF ST. AGNES.

I.

ST. AGNES' Eve, - ah, bitter chill it was
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limped trembling through the frozen

grass,

And silent was the flock in woolly fold:

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They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve,
Young virgins might have visions of delight,
And soft adorings from their loves receive
Upon the honeyed middle of the night,
If ceremonies due they did aright;
As, supperless to bed they must retire,

Numb were the beadman's fingers while he told And couch supine their beauties, lily white;

His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seemed taking flight for heaven without a death,
Past the sweet virgin's picture, while his prayer
he saith.

II.

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Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require
Of heaven with upward eyes for all that they
desire.

VII.

;

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline
The music, yearning like a god in pain,
Fixed on the floor, saw many a sweeping train
She scarcely heard; her maiden eyes divine,
Pass by, she heeded not at all; in vain
And back retired; not cooled by high disdain,
Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,
But she saw not; her heart was otherwhere;
She sighed for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the
year.

VIII.

She danced along with vague, regardless eyes,
Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short;
The hallowed hour was near at hand; she sighs
Amid the timbrels, and the thronged resort
Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;
Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,
Hoodwinked with fairy fancy; all amort
Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn,
And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.

IX.

So, purposing each moment to retire,
She lingered still. Meantime, across the moors,
Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire
For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,
Buttressed from moonlight, stands he, and im-
plores

All saints to give him sight of Madeline;
But for one moment in the tedious hours,

That he might gaze and worship all unseen ;
Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss, in sooth
such things have been.

X.

He ventures in ; let no buzzed whisper tell;
All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords
Will storm his heart, love's feverous citadel;

For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, | Who keepeth closed a wondrous riddle-book, Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords,

Whose very dogs would execrations howl
Against his lineage; not one breast affords

Him any mercy, in that mansion foul,

As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook
Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold,

Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.

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"Get hence! get hence ! there's dwarfish Hilde- Quoth Porphyro; "O, may I ne'er find grace

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Her own lute thou wilt see; no time to spare,
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare
On such a catering trust my dizzy head.

Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint;

Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,

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