The tempest crackles on the leads,

And, ringing, spins from brand and mail ; But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail,
I leave the plain, I climb the height :

No branchy thicket shelter yields ;
But blessed forms in whistling storms

Fly o’er waste fens and windy fields.

VI.

A maiden knight to me is given

Such hope, I know not fear ;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven

That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,

Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odours haunt

my

dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,

This mortal armour that I wear,
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

VOL. II.

VII.

The clouds are broken in the sky,

And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony
Swells up,

and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod,

Wings flutter, voices hover clear : “O just and faithful knight of God!

Ride on! the prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange ;

By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,

Until I find the holy Grail.

EDWARD GRAY.

Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder town

Met me walking on yonder way, “ And have

you
lost
your

heart ?” she said;
“ And are you married yet, Edward Gray ?”

Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me :

Bitterly weeping I turn'd away : “Sweet Emma Moreland, love no more

Can touch the heart of Edward Gray.

“ Ellen Adair she loved me well,

Against her father's and mother's will · To-day I sat for an hour and wept,

By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill.

66

Shy she was, and I thought her cold;

Thought her proud, and fled over the sea : Fillid I was with folly and spite,

When Ellen Adair was dying for me.

Cruel, cruel the words I said !

Cruelly came they back to-day: You're too slight and fickle,' I said, * To trouble the heart of Edward Gray.'

“ There I put my face in the grass

Whisper'd, 'Listen to my despair : I repent me of all I did :

Speak a little, Ellen Adair !'

“ Then I took a pencil, and wrote

On the mossy stone, as I lay, • Here lies the body of Ellen Adair ;

And here the heart of Edward Gray !'

“ Love may come, and love may go,

And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree :

But I will love no niore, no more,

Till Ellen Adair come back

me.

Bitterly wept I over the stone :

Bitterly weeping I turn’d away: There lies the body of Ellen Adair !

And there the heart of Edward Gray !”