And lo! the eyelid stirr'd, beneath had grown ROSE-LEAVES. Once a rose ever a rose, we say : One we loved and who loved us Sere and seal'd for a day and year, WILLIAM JAMES LINTON. 1812 BRIDAL SONG. Blessed Hours! approach her gently; Not even Love's own eyes should measure Touch life's chords with lightest finger; By the love makes marriage holy, Tame thy carriage, Fate! Like a bridesmaid murmuring lowly- THE HAPPY LAND. The Happy Land! Studded with cheerful homesteads, fair to see, With garden grace and household symmetry : How grand the wide-brow'd peasant's lordly mien, The matron's smile serene! O happy, happy land! The happy land! Half-hid in the dewy grass the mower blithe Carols as blithe a strain. O happy, happy land! The happy land! Where in the golden sheen of autumn eves The bright-hair'd children play among the sheaves; Or gather ripest apples all the day, As ruddy-cheek'd as they. O happy land! O happy, happy land! The thin smoke curleth through the frosty air; The light smiles from the windows; hearken there To the white grandsire's tale of heroes old, To flame-eyed listeners told ! O happy, happy land! O happy, happy land! The tender-foliaged alders scarcely shade O happy, happy land! IPHIGENEIA AT AULIS. I am Achilles. Thou wast hither brought To be my wife, not for a sacrifice. Greece and her kings may stand aside as nought Or kings or Gods: I too am heaven-born. But thou Belovèd! smilèst down my wrath There is no need of words; from me reply Doth more than all the Atridæ could command. Thou givèst life and love for Greece and Right : Not weak of soul.-I will but hold in sight Thy marvelous beauty.-Here is She you seek! AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE. 1814 SONG. Seek not the tree of silkiest bark And balmiest bud, To carve her name while yet 'tis dark The world is full of noble tasks And wreaths hard won : Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands, Till day is done. Sing not that violet-veined skin, The lily of that form wherein Forth to the fight, true man! true knight! Shall more prevail than whisper'd tale, The warrior for the True, the Right, The love that lures thee from that fight That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves That love, or none, is fit for one SORROW. When I was young, I said to Sorrow 66 Come, and I will play with thee!" And at night returns to say "I will come again to-morrow I will come and stay with thee." Through the woods we walk together,- And all night in rainy weather SONG. Love laid down his golden head On his mother's knee : "The world runs round so fast "-he said, Thought, a sage unhonor'd, turn'd Song her starry legend spurn'd; Roll on, blind world! upon thy track For that is gone which comes not back SONG. Softly, O midnight Hours! Move softly o'er the bowers Where lies in happy sleep a Girl so fair : And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare. Enclasp a separate charm: Hang o'er her poised; but breathe nor sigh nor prayer! Silently ye may smile, But hold your breath the while And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair! Bend down your glittering urns (Ere yet the dawn returns) And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread; Bid all the woods be calm; |