Proudly turns he round and kindly,
'All of this is mine and thine.'

Here he lives in state and bounty,
Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,

Not a lord in all the county

Is so great a lord as he.

All at once the colour flushes

Her sweet face from brow to chin:

As it were with shame she blushes,
And her spirit changed within.
Then her countenance all over

Pale again as death did prove :
But he clasp'd her like a lover,

And he cheer'd her soul with love. So she strove against her weakness, Tho' at times her spirit sank: Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank:

And a gentle consort made he,

And her gentle mind was such

That she grew a noble lady,

And the people loved her much. But a trouble weigh'd upon her, And perplex'd her, night and morn,

With the burthen of an honour

Unto which she was not born.

Faint she grew, and ever fainter,

And she murmur'd, 'Oh, that he Were once more that landscape-painter, Which did win my heart from me!' So she droop'd and droop'd before him, Fading slowly from his side:

Three fair children first she bore him, Then before her time she died.

Weeping, weeping late and early,

Walking up and pacing down, Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh, Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.

And he came to look upon her,

And he look'd at her and said,

'Bring the dress and put it on her,

That she wore when she was wed.' Then her people, softly treading,

Bore to earth her body, drest In the dress that she was wed in,

That her spirit might have rest.

THE VOYAGE.

1.

WE left behind the painted buoy

That tosses at the harbour-mouth;

And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:

How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore !
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow,

Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail :

The Lady's-head upon the prow

Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.

The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel,

And swept behind; so quick the run,

We felt the good ship shake and reel,

We seem'd to sail into the Sun !

III.

How oft we saw the Sun retire,

And burn the threshold of the night, Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,

And sleep beneath his pillar'd light! How oft the purple-skirted robe

Of twilight slowly downward drawn,` As thro' the slumber of the globe

Again we dash'd into the dawn!

IV.

New stars all night above the brim

Of waters lighten'd into view ;