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And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow laden,
A long, long sigh,

For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,
And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away children,
Come children, come down.
The hoarse wind blows colder;
Lights shine in the town.

She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,

A pavement of pearl.

Singing, Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she;

And alone dwell forever

The kings of the sea.'

But children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starred with broom;
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanched sands a gloom :
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie;
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.

We will gaze from the sand-hills,

At the white sleeping town ;
At the church on the hill-side-

And then come back, down.
Singing, 'There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she:

She left lonely for ever

The kings of the sea.'

XLI.

M. Arnold.

SONG.

O, lovely Rose !

Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied,
That had'st thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die, that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;

How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

E. Waller.

XLII.

EVENING VOLUNTARY.

COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR
AND BEAUTY.

1.

AD this effulgence disappeared

With flying haste, I might have sent,
Among the speechless clouds, a look

Of blank astonishment;

But 'tis endued with power to stay,
And sanctify one closing day,

That frail Mortality may see

What is ?-ah no, but what can be!
Time was when field and watery cove
With modulated echoes rang,

While choirs of fervent Angels sang

Their vespers in the grove;

Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height, Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,

Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite,

Methinks, if audibly repeated now

From hill or valley, could not move
Sublimer transport, purer love,

Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam—
The shadow-and the peace supreme!

II.

No sound is uttered, but a deep

And solemn harmony pervades

The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,

Called forth by wondrous potency
Of beamy radiance, that imbues

Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues !

In vision exquisitely clear,

Herds range along the mountain side;
And glistening antlers are descried;
And gilded flocks appear.

Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe
That this magnificence is wholly thine!
-From worlds not quickened by the sun
A portion of the gift is won;

An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread
On ground which British shepherds tread !

III.

And, if there be whom broken ties

Afflict, or injuries assail,

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes

Present a glorious scale,

Climbing suffused with sunny air,

To stop-no record hath told where !
And tempting Fancy to ascend,
And with immortal Spirits blend!
-Wings at my shoulders seem to play;
But, rooted here, I stand and gaze

On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise
Their practicable way.

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad,

And see to what fair countries ye are bound!
And if some traveller, weary of his road,
Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
Ye Genii! to his covert speed;

And wake him with such gentle heed

As may attune his soul to meet the dower
Bestowed on this transcendent hour!

IV.

Such hues from their celestial Urn

Were wont to stream before mine eye,

Where'er it wandered in the morn
Of blissful infancy.

This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
For, if a vestige of those gleams
Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.

Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
No less than Nature's threatening voice,
If aught unworthy be my choice,
From THEE if I would swerve;

Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light
Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
Which, at this moment, on my waking sight
Appears to shine, by miracle restored;
My soul, though yet confined to earth,
Rejoices in a second birth!

—’Tis past, the visionary splendour fades ;
And night approaches with her shades.

XLIII.

W. Wordsworth.

HYMN OF THE CITY.

OT in the solitude

Alone may man commune with Heaven, or see
Only in savage wood

And sunny vale, the present Deity;

Or only hear his voice

Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice.

Even here do I behold

Thy steps, Almighty !—here, amidst the crowd,
Through the great city rolled,

With everlasting murmur deep and loud-
Choking the ways that wind

'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind.

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