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But out and spak Lord John his mother,

And a skeely * woman was she : “ Where met ye, my son, wi' that bonnie boy,

That looks sae sad on thee?

“Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,

And sometimes deidly wan:
He's liker a woman grit wi' child,

Than a young lord's serving man."

“ But there is in yon castle, Helen,

That stands on yonder lea, There is a lady in yon castle,

Will sinder* you and me." “I wish nae ill to that ladye,

She comes na in my thocht: But I wish the maid maist o' your love,

That dearest has you bocht.' When he cam to the porter's yett,+

He tirled at the pin ; And wha sae ready as the bauld porter,

To open and let him in ? Many a lord and lady bright

Met Lord John in the closs ; But the bonniest lady among them a'

Was hauding Lord John's horse.

“0, it maks me laugh, my mother dear,

Sic words to hear frae thee; He is a squire's ae dearest son,

That for love has followed me.

“Rise up, rise up, my bonnie boy ;

Gi'e my horse corn and hay." “O that I will, my master deir,

As quickly as I may.”

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When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men boun' for bed,
Lord John's mother and sister gay

In ae bouir they were laid.

“It were more meet for a little foot-page,

That has run through moss and mire, To take his supper upon his knee,

And sit doun by the kitchen fire."
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men boun' to meat,
Burd Helen was, at the bye-table, &

Amang the pages set.
“0, eat and drink, my bonnie boy,

The white breid and the beer." “ The never a bit can I eat or drink;

My heart 's sae fu'o' fear.” 0, eat and drink, my bonnie boy,

The white breid and the wine.” "O the never a bit can I eat or drink;

My heart's sae fu' o' pyne." || • Part.

† Gate. Opened the gate by turning the latch. Side-table.

| Sorrow.

Lord John hadna weel got aff his claes,

Nor was he weel laid doun,
Till his mother heard a bairn greet,

And a woman's heavy moan. “Win up, win up, Lord John,” she said ;

“Seek neither stockings nor shoen : For I ha'e heard a bairn loud greet,

And a woman's heavy moan !" “Richt hastilie he rase him up,

Socht neither hose nor shoen;
And he's doen him to the stable door,

By the lee licht o' the mune.

0, open the door, Burd Helen," he said,

“0, open and let me in ; I want to see if my steed be fed, Or my greyhounds fit to rin."

* Skilful.

She'll weep for naught for his dear sake; She clasps her sister in her sleep ;

Her love in dreams is most awake. Her soul, that once with pleasure shook

Did any eyes her beauty own, Now wonders how they dare to look

On what belongs to him alone. The indignity of taking gifts

Exhilarates her loving breast;
A rapture of submission lifts

Her life into celestial rest.
There's nothing left of what she was,

Back to the babe the woman dies;
And all the wisdom that she has

Is to love him for being wise. She's confident because she fears;

And, though discreet when he's away, If none but her dear despot hears,

She 'll prattle like a child at play. Perchance, when all her praise is said,

He tells the news, - a battle won On either side ten thousand dead

Describing how the whole was done :
She thinks, “He's looking on my face !

I am his joy ; whate'er I do,
He sees such time-contenting grace

In that, he'd have me always so !”
And, evermore, for either's sake,

To the sweet folly of the dove She joins the cunning of the snake,

To rivet and exalt his love. Her mode of candor is deceit ;

And what she thinks from what she 'll say, (Although I'll never call her cheat,)

Lies far as Scotland from Cathay. Without his knowledge he was won,

Against his nature kept devout; She'll never tell him how 't was done,

And he will never find it out. If, sudden, he suspects her wiles,

And hears her forging chain and trap, And looks, — she sits in simple smiles,

Her two hands lying in her lap!
Her secret (privilege of the Bard,

Whose fancy is of either sex)
Is mine ; but let the darkness guard

Mysteries that light would more perplex.




BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away !

“O lullaby, my own deir child !

Lullaby, deir child, deir !
I wold thy father were a king,

Thy mother laid on a bier !”
O, open the door, Burd Helen,” he says,

0, open the door to me; Or, as my sword hangs by my gair, *

I'll gar it gang in three !"

“ That never was my mother's custome,

And I hope it 's ne'er be mine ; A knicht into her companie,

When she dries a' her pyne."

He hit the door then wi' his foot,

Sae did he wi' his knee;
Till door o' deal, and locks o' steel,

In splinders he gart * flee.

“ An askin', an askin', Lord John," she says,

“ An askin' ye 'll grant me; The meanest maid about your house,

To bring a drink to me. An askin', an askin', mỹ dear Lord John,

An askin' ye 'll grant me;
The warsten bouir in a' your touirs,

For thy young son and me!”
I grant, I grant your askins, Helen,

An' that and mair frae me;
The very best bouir in a' my touirs,

For my young son and thee.
"O, have thou comfort, fair Helen,
Be of good cheer, I pray ;

bridal and your kirking baith Shall stand upon ae day.”

And your

And he has ta'en her Burd Helen,

And rowed her in the silk ;
And he has ta'en his ain young son,

And washed him in the milk.

And there was ne'er a gayer bridegroom,

Nor yet a blyther bride,
As they, Lord John and Lady Helen,

Neist day to kirk did ride.



If he's capricious, she 'll be so;

But, if his duties constant are,
She lets her loving favor glow

As steady as a tropic star.
Appears there naught for which to weep,

Made or forced to.

* Side.

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

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,

Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, and all.

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known, sword

To which time will but make thee more dear !|(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a O the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

word), But as truly loves on to the close,

“0, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord LochinThe same look which she turned when he rose ! THOMAS MOORE ("Irish Melodies ").

“I long wooed your daughter, my suit you de.

var ?"

nied ;

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its WERE I AS BASE AS IS THE LOWLY

tide, PLAIN.

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine, And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, Yet should the thoughts of me your humble That would gladly be bride to the young Loch

invar." swain Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love. The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it

up, Were I as high as heaven above the plain,

He quaffed off the wine, and threw down the cup. And you, my Love, as humble and as low

She looked down to blush, and she looked up to As are the deepest bottoms of the main, Whereso'er you were, with you my Love should


With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. go.

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies, bar, My love should shine on you like to the sun, “Now tread we a measure," said young Lochinvar. And look upon you with ten thousand eyes Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were So stately his form, and so lovely her face, done.

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ;

While her mother did fret, and her father did Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,

fume, Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

and plume ; And the bridemaidens whispered, “'T were bet

ter by far LOCHINVAR.

To have matched our fair cousin with young

Lochinvar." O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the one touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall-door, and the charger And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had

stood near ; none,

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So light to the saddle before her he sprung; So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, “She is won ! we are gone ! over bank, bush, There never was knight like the young Lochin

and scaur ;

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for

young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the NethHe swam the Eske River where ford there was erby clan ; none;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

and they ran ;

best ;



There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, The maid and page renewed their strife ;
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. The palace banged, and buzzed and clackt;
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

And all the long-pent stream of life
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochin- | Dashed downward in a cataract.
var ?

And last of all the king awoke,

And in his chair himself upreared,

And yawned, and rubbed his face, and spoke : THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.

“By holy rood, a royal beard !

How say you ? we have slept, my lords;

My beard has grown into my lap."
Year after year unto her feet,

The barons swore, with many words,
She lying on her couch alone,

'T was but an after-dinner's nap. Across the purple coverlet,

“Pardy!" returned the king, “but still The maiden's jet-black hair has grown; My joints are something stiff or so. On either side her trancéd form

My lord, and shall we pass the bill
Forth streaming from a braid of pearl ;

I mentioned half an hour ago ?”
The slumb'rous light is rich and warm,

The chancellor, sedate and vain,
And moves not on the rounded curl.

In courteous words returned reply ;

But dallied with his golden chain,
The silk star-broidered coverlid

And, smiling, put the question by.
Unto her limbs itself doth mould,

ALFRED TENNYSON. Languidly ever; and amid

Her full black ringlets, downward rolled, Glows forth each softly shadowed arm,

| THE “SLEEPING BEAUTY” DEPARTS With bracelets of the diamond bright.

Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light.


AND on her lover's arm she leant, She sleeps ; her breathings are not heard

And round her waist she felt it fold; In palace chambers far apart.

And far across the hills they went
The fragrant tresses are not stirred

In that new world which is the old.
That lie upon her charméd heart.

Across the hills, and far away
She sleeps ; on either hand upswells

Beyond their utmost purple rim,
The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest;

And deep into the dying day,
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells

The happy princess followed him.
A perfect form in perfect rest.

“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." THE REVIVAL OF THE “SLEEPING And o'er them many a sliding star, BEAUTY.”

And many a merry wind was borne,

And, streamed through many a golden bar,

The twilight melted into morn.
A TOUCH, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks ;

O eyes long laid in happy sleep!” And feet that ran, and doors that clapt,

“O happy sleep, that lightly fled !"

O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!” And barking dogs, and crowing cocks ; A fuller light illumined all;

“O love, thy kiss would wake the dead ! "

And o'er them many a flowing range
A breeze through all the garden swept ;
A sudden hubbub shook the hall;

Of vapor buoyed the crescent bark;

And, rapt through many a rosy change, And sixty feet the fountain leapt.

The twilight died into the dark. The hedge broke in, the banner blew,

A hundred summers ! can it be? The butler drank, the steward scrawled,

And whither goest thou, tell me where ! The fire shot up, the martin, flew,

“O, seek my father's court with me, The parrot screamed, the peacock squalled ;l 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.

The brain, new-stuffed, in youth, with triumphs

Of old romance.

These let us wish away ;
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one lady there,
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
On love, and winged St. Agnes' saintly care,
As she had heard old dames full many times den









They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, Sr. AGNES' EVE, -- ah, bitter chill it was

Young virgins might have visions of delight, The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ;

And soft adorings from their loves receive The hare limped trembling through the frozen Upon the honeyed middle of the night, grass,

If ceremonies due they did aright ; And silent was the flock in woolly fold :

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,

Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Like pious incense from a censer old,

Of heaven with upward eyes for all that they Seemed taking flight for heaven without a death, desire. Past the sweet virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline ; His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;

The music, yearning like a god in pain, Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, Fixed on the floor, saw many a sweeping train

She scarcely heard ; her maiden eyes divine, And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,

Pass by, -- she heeded not at all ; in vain Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees ; The sculptured dead, on each side seem to freeze, And back retired ; not cooled by high disdain,

Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, Emprisoned in black, purgatorial rails ;

But she saw not ; her heart was otherwhere; Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries,

She sighed for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the He passed by ; and his weak spirit fails

year. To think how they may ache inicy hoods and mails.

She danced along with vague, regardless eyes, Northward he turneth through a little door, Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short; And scarce three steps, ere music's golden tongue The hallowed hour was near at hand ; she sighs Flattered to tears this aged man and poor ;

Amid the timbrels, and the thronged resort But no, — already had his death-bell rung; Of whisperers in anger, or in sport ; The joys of all his life were said and sung;

Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve; Hoodwinked with fairy fancy ; all amort Another way he went, and soon among

Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn, Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve,

And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.

So, purposing each moment to retire, That ancient beadsman heard the prelude soft :

She lingered still. Meantime, across the moors, And so it chanced, for many a door was wide,

Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,

For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide ;

Buttressed from moonlight, stands he, and imThe level chambers, ready with their pride,

plores Were glowing to receive a thousand guests ;

All saints to give him sight of Madeline ; The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,

But for one moment in the tedious hours, Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, That he might gaze and worship all unseen ; With hair blown back, and wings put crosswise Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss, — in sooth on their breasts.

such things have been.






At length burst in the argent revelry,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
Numerous as shadows haunting fairily

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

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