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Now pillowed cheek to cheek, in loving sleer, Of pleasure and of pain, -even while I k Haidee and Juan their siesta took,

Thy garment's hem with transport, ca A gentle slumber, but it was not deep,

That doubt should mingle with my filial For ever and anon a something shook Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare thi Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would crecp;

And Haidee's sweet lips murmured like a brook, High and inscrutable the old man stood, A wordless music, and her face so fair

Calm in his voice, anıl calm within bi Stirred with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air. Not always signs with him of calmest m

He looked upon her, but gave no reply She dreamed of being alone on the sea-shore Then turned to Juan, in whose cheek th

her;

said:

Chained to a rock : she knew not lour, but stir Oft came and went, as there resolved She could not from the spot, and the loud roar In arms, at least, he stood in act to sprii Grew, and cach wave rose roughly, threatening on the first soe whom Lambro's call mig!

“Young man, yoursword"; so Lambro or And o'er her upper lip they scemed to pour Until she soubed for breathi, and soon they were

Juan replied, “Not while this arm is Foaming o'er her lone head, so fierce and high,

The old man's cheek grew pale, but not wit Each broke to drown her, yet she could not dic.

And drawing from his belt a pistol, li And wet and cold and lifeless at her feet,

Replied, “Your blood be then on yourow

Then looked close at the flint, as if to L'ale as the foam that frotheil on his dead brow, 'T was fresli, -- for he had lately used the Which she essayed in vain to clear, (how sweet And next proceeded quictly to cock.

Werc once her cares, how idle seemed they now!) Lay Juan, nor could auglit renew the beat

Lambro presented, and one instant more Of his quenched heart; and the sea-llirges low

Had stopped this canto, and Don Juan Rang in her sad cars like a mermail's song,

When Haidee threw lierself licr boy beri And that brief drcam appeared a life too long. Stern as her sire: "On me," she cried,

Descend, — the fault is mine; this fata And gazing on the dead, she thought his face

He found, Faded, or altered into something new,

but sought not. I have Like to her father's features, till cach trace

my faith; More like and like to Lambro's aspect grenr,

I love him, - I will die with him : Ik With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace;

Your nature's firmness, – know your da

too." And, starting, she awoke, and what to view ? O powers of heaven! what darkeye meets she there? A minute past, and she had been all tea 'Tis - 't is her father's— fixed upon the pair! And tenderness and infancy ; but nov

She stood as one who championed human Then shricking, she arose, and shrieking fell,

Pale, statuc-like, and stern, she wooed t With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see

And tall beyond her sex, and their com Him whom she deemeil a habitant where well

She drew up to her height, as if to sh The ocean-buriel, risen from death to be

A fairer mark ; and with a fixed eye, se Perchance the death of one she lovcıl too well :

Her father's face, – but never stopped | Dear as her father had been to Haidee, It was a nioment of that awful kind,

The father paused a moment, tlıen with I have seen such, — but must not call to mind.

His weapon, and replaced it; but sto

And looking on her, as to look her thro Up Juan sprung to Haidee's bitter shriek,

“Not I," he said, "have sought this s And caught her falling, and from off the wall Snatched down his sabre, in hot haste to wreak Not I have made this desolation : few Vengeance on him who was the cause of all:

Would bear such outrage, and forbear Then Lambro, who till now forbore to speak, Smiled scornfully, and said, “Within my call, Done thine, the present vouches for the

But I must do my duty, — how thou lia A thousand scimitars await the word; Put up, young man, put up your silly sword.” “Let him disarm ; or, by my father's 1

His own shall roll before you like a b And Haidee clung around him : "Juan, 't is - He raised his whistle, as the word he sa

'Tis Lambro,-'tis my father! Kneel with me, – And blew ; another answered to the He will forgive us, - yes, - it must be, - yes. And, rushing in disorilerly, though led, O dearest father, in this agony

And armed from boot to turban, one

ill;.

:

Some twenty of his train came, rank on rank; New thoughts of life, for it seemed full of soul,He gave the woru, —“Arrest, or slay, the Frank.” She had so much, earth could not claim the whole. Then, with a sudden movement, he withdrew

She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake, His daughter ; while compressed within his Rather the deadl, for life seemed something new, clasi,

A strange sensation which she must partake *Twixt her and Juan interposed the crew;

Perforce, since whatsoever met her view In vain she struggled in her father's grasr, Struck not her memory, though a heavy ache His arms were like a serpent's coil : then llew

Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat, still true, Upon their prey, as darts an angry asp), Brought back the sense of pain without the cause, The file of pirates ; save the foremost, who For, for a while, the furies made a pause. Had fallen, with his right shoulder half cut through.

She looked on many a face with vacant eye,

On many a token without knowing what; The second had his cheek laid open ; but She saw them watch hier without asking wly ; The third, a wary, cool, oli swordler, took

And recked not who around hier pillow sat ; The blows upon his cutlass, and then put

Not specchless, though she spoke not ; not a sigh His own well in : so well, cre you could look,

Relieved her thoughts ; dull silence and quick His man was flooreil, and helpless, at his foot,

chat With the blood running, like a little brook,

Were tried in vain by those who served; she gave From two smart sabre-gashes, deep and red,

No sign, save breath, of having left the grave. One on the arm, the other on the licad. And then they bound him where he fell, and bore Her handmai.ls tended, but she hecded not ; Juan from the apartment: with a sign,

Her father watched, she turned her eyes away ; Old Lambro bade them take liim to the shore,

She recognized no being, anıl no spot, Where lay some ships which were tosail at ninc.

However dear, or cherished in their day ; They laid him in a boat, anil plied the oar

They changed from room to room, but all forgot, Until they reached some galliots, placeıl in line;

Gentic, but without memory, she lay; On board of one of these, and under hatches,

At length those eyes, which they would fain be

weaning Theystowed him, with strict orders to the watches.

Back to old thoughts, waxed full of fearful mcanThe last sight Haidee saw was Juan's gore,

ing And lie liimself o'ermastered and cut down : His blood was running on the very floor,

And then a slave bethought her of a harp ; Where late lic trou, her beautiful, her own;

The harper came, and tuned his instrument; Thus much she vieweil an instant and no more,

At the first notes, irregular and sharp, Her struggles ceased with one convulsive groan;

On him her flashing eyes a moment bent, On her sire's arm, which until now scarce held

T'hen to the wall she turned, as if to warp Her, writhing, fell she, like a cedar felled. Her thoughts from sorrow, through her lieart

re-sent; A vein lau burst, and her sweet lips' pure clyes And he began a long low island-song Were dabbled with the deep blood which ran of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong.

o'cr; And her head droopeil, as when the lily lies Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall, O'ereharged with rain : her summoned hand. In time to his old tune; he changed the theme, maids borc

And sung of love; the fierce name struck through Their lady to her couch, with gushing eyes ;

all Oflerbs anal cordials they produced their store, Her recollection ; on her flashed the dream But she defied all means they coull employ, Of what she was, and is, if ye could call Like one life could not hold, nor death destroy. To be so bring; in n gushing stream

The tears rushed forth from her o'erelouded brain, Days lay she in that state, unchanged, though Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain.

chill, With nothing livid, still her lips were red; Short solace, vain relief !- thought came too She liail no pulse, but death seemeil absent still ; quick,

No hideous sign proclaimed her surely dead ; And whirled her brain to madness; she arose, Corruption came not, in each mind to kill As one who nc'er had dwelt among the sick,

All hope ; to look upon her sweet face bred And New at all she mct, as on her focs;

close ;

But no one ever heard her speak or shriek, Purple the sails, and so perfuméd, that Although her paroxysm drew towards its The winds were love-siek with them; th

were silver ; Hers was a frenzy which disdained to rave, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and Even when they smote her, in the hope to save. The water, which they beat, to follow fast

Asamorous of their strokes. For her own Yet she betrayed at times a gleam of sense ;

It beggared all description : she did lie Nothing could make her meet her father's face, In her pavilion (cloth of gold of tissue), Though on all other things with looks intense

O'erpicturing that Venus, where we see, She gazed, but none she ever could retrace ;

The fancy out-work nature ; on each side Food she refused, and raiment; no pretence

Stood pretty dimpled bɔys, like smiling C Availed for either; neither change of place,

With divers-colored fans, whose wind did Nor time, nor skill, nor remedy, could give her to glow the delicate cheeks which they di Senses to sleep, — the power seemed gone forever. And what they undid, did. Twelve days and nights she withered thus; at last, AGRIPPA.

O, rare for AI Without a groan or sigh or glance to show Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereid A parting pang, the spirit from her past; So many mermaids, tenderd her i' the ey And they who watched her nearest could not And made their bends adornings : at the know

A seeming mermaid steers : the silken tas The very instant, till the change that cast Swell with the touches of those flower-soft

Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow, That yarely frame the office. From the l Glazed o'er her eyes,

the beautiful, the black,– A strange invisible perfume hits the sense O, to possess such lustre, — and then lack ! Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast

Her people out upon her; and Antony, She died, but not alone; she held within

Enthronéd i' the market-place, did sit ald A second principle of life, which might

Whistling to the air ; which, but for vac: Have dawned a fair and sinless child of sin ;

Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, But closed its little being without light,

And made a gap in nature. And went down to the grave unborn, wherein

AGR.

Rare Egypti Blossom and bough lie withered with one

Exo. Upon her landing, Antony sent t blight;

Invited her to supper : she replied, In vain the dews of heaven descend above

It should be better he became her guest ; The bleeding flower and blasted fruit of love.

Which she entreated : our courteous Ant Thus lived, thus died she ; nevermore on her,

Whom ne'er the word of “No” womar Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made speak, Through years or moons the inner weight to bear, Being barbered ten times o'er, goes to the

Which colder hearts endure till they are laid And, for his ordinary, pays his heart By age in earth ; her days and pleasures were

For what his eyes eat only. Brief, but delightful, – such as had not stayed AGR.

Royal wenc Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well MECENAS. Now Antony must leave her i By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell. Eno. Never ; he will not:

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale That isle is now all desolate and bare,

Her infinite variety : other women cloy Its dwellings down, its tenants passed away ;

The appetites they feed, but she makes h None but her own and father's grave is there,

Where most she satisfies : for vilest thin, And nothing outward tells of human clay ;

Become themselves in her; that the holy Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair,

Bless her when she is riggish.
No stone is there to show, no tongue to say,
What was ; no dirge, except the hollow sea's,
Mourns o'er the beauty of the Cyclades.

GODIVA.

SHAKES

BYRON.

FROM

CLEOPATRA.

Not only we, the latest seed of Time,

New men, that in the flying of a wheel ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA."

Cry down the past ; not only we, that pr ENOBARBUS. The barge she sat in, like a bur- of rights and wrongs, have loved the peo nished throne,

And loathed to see them overtaxed; but Burned on the water : the poop was beaten gold; Did more, and underwent, and overcame

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ALFRED TENNYSON.

The woman of a thousand summers back,

Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity : Godiva, wife to that grim Earl who ruled And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, In Coventry : for when he laid a tax

The fatal byword of all years to come, Upon his town, and all the mothers brought Boring a little auger-hole in fear, Their children, clamoring, “If we pay, we Peeped — but his eyes, before they had their starve !"

will, She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode Were shrivelled into darkness in his head, About the hall, among his dogs, alone,

And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait His beard a foot before him, and his hair On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused ; A yard behind. She told him of their tears, And she, that knew not, passed : and all at once, And prayed him, “If they pay this tax, they With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless

starve." Whereat he stared, replying, half amazed, Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers, "You would not let your little finger ache One after one : but even then she gained For such as these ?”. “But I would die," said Her bower; whence re-issuing, robed and crowned, she.

To meet her lord, she took the tax away, He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul: And built herself an everlasting name. Then filliped at the diamond in her ear; O, ay, ay, ay, you talk !” – “Alas !” she said, “But prove me what it is I would not do." And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand,

THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. He answered, “ Ride you naked through the town, And I repeal it"; and nodding, as in scorn, THERE also was a Nun, a Prioress, He parted, with great strides among his dogs. That in her smiling was full simple and coy ;

So left alone, the passions of her minú, Her greatest oath was but by Saint Eloy ; As winds from all the compass shift and blow, And she was cleped Madame Eglantine. Made war upon each other for an hour,

Full well she sang the service divine, Till pity won. She sent a herald forth,

Entuned in her nose full sweetly ; And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all And French she spake full faire and fetisly, The hard condition ; but that she would loose After the school of Stratford at Bow, The people : therefore, as they loved her well, For French of Paris was to her unknowe. From then till noon no foot should pace the street, At meat was she well ytaught withall; No eye look down, she passing ; but that all She let no morsel from her lips fall, Should keep within, door shut and window barred. Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep ;

Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep, Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt, That no drop neer fell upon her breast. The grim Earl's gift ; but ever at a breath In courtesie was set full much her lest. She lingered, looking like a summer moon Half dipt in cloud : anon she shook her head, And certainly she was of great disport, And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee; And full pleasant, and amiable of port, Unclad herself in haste ; adown the stair Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid And took much pains to imitate the air From pillar unto pillar, until she reached Of court, and hold a stately manner, The gateway ; there she found her palfrey trapt And to be thoughten high of reverence. In purple blazoned with armorial gold. But for to speaken of her conscience,

Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity : She was so charitable and so piteous, The deep air listened round her as she rode, She would weep if that she saw a mouse And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled; The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout Two small hounds had she that she fed Had cunning eyes to see : the barking cur With roasted flesh, and milk, and wasted bread, Made her cheek flame: her palfrey's footfall shot But sore she wept if one of them were dead, Light horrors through her pulses: the blind Or if men smote it with a staff smarte : walls

She was all conscience and tender heart. Were full of chinks and holes ; and overhead Full seemely her wimple pinched was ; Fantastic gables, crowding, stared : but she Her nose was strait; her eyes were grey as Not less through all bore up, till, last, she saw glass, The white-flowered elder-thicket from the field Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red ; Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall. ' But certainly she had a fair forehead.

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It was almost a span broad I trow,
For certainly she was not undergrowne.

Full handsome was her cloak, as I was 'ware
Of small coral about her arm she bare
A pair of beads, gauded all with green ;
And thereon hung a broach of gold full shene,
On which was first ywritten a crowned A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.

Another Nun also with her had she That was her chaplain, and of Priests three.

THE VICAR.

A good man there was of religion, That was a poor Parsone of a town ; But rich he was in holy thought and work, He was also a learned man, a clerk, That Christ's gospel truely would preach. His parishens devoutly would he teach, Benigne he was and wondrous diligent, And in adversity full patient: And such he was yproved often times ; Full loth were he to cursen for his tithes, But rather would he given, out of doubt, Unto his poor parishioners about, Of his offering, and eke of his substance ; He could in little thing have suffisance. Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder, But he nor felt nor thought of rain or thunder, In sickness and in mischief to visit The farthest in his parish, much and oft, Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff. This noble ensample to his sheep he gave. That first he wrought, and afterward he taught, Out of the gospel he the words caught, And this figure he added yet thereto, That if gold rust, what should iron do? And if a priest be foul, on whom we trust, No wonder if a common man do rust; Well ought a priest ensample for to give, By his cleanness, how his sheep should live.

He set not his benefice to hire, Or left his sheep bewildered in the mire, And ran unto London, unto Saint Paul's, To seeken him a chanterie for souls, Or with a brotherhood to be withold: But dwelt at home, and kept well his fold, So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry. He was a shepherd and no mercenarie, And though he holy were, and virtuous, He was to sinful men not dispiteous, Nor of his speech dangerous nor high, But in his teaching discrete and benigne. To draw his folk to heaven, with fairness, By good ensample, was his business : But were any person obstinate, Whether he were of high or low estate, Him would he reprove sharply for the nones, A better priest I trow that nowhere is. He waited after neither pomp ne reverence,

SOME years ago, ere time and taste

Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel park was Darnel waste,

And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way between

St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket Was always shown across the green,

And guided to the parson's wicket. Back flew the bolt of lissom lath;

Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path,

Through clean-clipt rows of box and my And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray,

Upon the parlor steps collected, Wagged all their tails, and seemed to sa

“Our master knows you ; you 're expé Up rose the reverend Doctor Brown,

Up rose the doctor's “Winsome marro The lady laid her knitting down,

Her husband clasped his ponderous B: Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed,

Pundit or papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed,

And welcome for himself, and dinner. If, when he reached his journey's end,

And warmed himself in court or colleg He had not gained an honest friend,

And twenty curious scraps of knowled If he departed as he came,

With no new light on love or liquor, Good sooth, the traveller was to blame,

And not the vicarage or the vicar. His talk was like a stream which runs

With rapid change from rocks to roses It slipped from politics to puns ;

It passed from Mahomet to Moses ; Beginning with the laws which keep

The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep

For dressing eels or shoeing horses. He was a shrewd and sound divine,

Of loud dissent the mortal terror; And when, by dint of page and line,

He 'stablished truth or startled error, The Baptist found him far too deep,

The Deist sighed with saving sorrow, And the lean Levite went to sleep

And dreamt of eating pork to-morrow.

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