1.—MADHOUSE CELL

Johannes Agricola in Meditation THERE'S heaven above, and night by night

1 I look right through the gorgeous roof; No suns and moons though e'er so bright

Avail to stop me; splendour-proof

I keep the broods of stars aloof: For I intend to get to God,

For 'tis to God I speed so fast, For in God's breast, my own abode,

Those shoals of dazzling glory, passed,

I lay my spirit down at last. I lie where I have always lain,

God smiles as he has always smiled; Ere suns and moons could wax and wane,

Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled

The heavens, God thought on me his child; Ordained a life for me, arrayed

Its circumstances every one To the minutest; ay, God said

This head this hand should rest upon

Thus, ere he fashioned star or sun. And having thus created me,

Thus rooted me, he bade me grow, Guiltless for ever, like a tree

That buds and blooms, nor seeks to know

The law by which it prospers so:
But sure that thought and word and deed

All go to swell his love for me,
Me, made because that love had need

Of something irreversibly

Pledged solely its content to be.
Yes, yes, a tree which must ascend,

No poison-gourd foredoomed to stoop!
I have God's warrant, could I blend
All hideous sins, as in a cup,
To drink the mingled venoms up;

Secure my nature will convert

The draught to blossoming gladness fast : While sweet dews turn to the gourd's hurt,

And bloat and while they bloat it, blast,

As from the first its lot was cast. For as I lie, smiled on, full-fed

By unexhausted power to bless, I gaze below on hell's fierce bed,

And those its waves of flame oppress,

Swarming in ghastly wretchedness; Whose life on earth aspired to be

One altar-smoke, so pure !-to win If not love like God's love for me,

At least to keep his anger in;

And all their striving turned to sin. Priest, doctor, hermit, monk grown white

With prayer, the broken-hearted nun, The martyr, the wan acolyte,

The incense-swinging child,-undone

Before God fashioned star or sun!
God, whom I praise; how could I praise,

If such as I might understand,
Make out and reckon on his ways,

And bargain for his love, and stand,
Paying a price, at his right hand?

11.—MADHOUSE CELL

Porphyria's Lover
THE rain set early in to-night,

1 The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied, She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare, And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair, Murmuring how she loved me-she

Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour, To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain : So, she was come through wind and rain. Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss :

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL-KADR

1842
AS I ride, as I ride,
HWith a full heart for my guide,
So its tide rocks my side,
As I ride, as I ride,
That, as I were double-eyed,
He, in whom our Tribes confide,
Is descried, ways untried
As I ride, as I ride.

As I ride, as I ride
To our Chief and his Allied,
Who dares chide my heart's pride
As I ride, as I ride?
Or are witnesses denied-
Through the desert waste and wide
Do I glide unespied
As I ride, as I ride?

As I ride, as I ride,
When an inner voice has cried,
The sands slide, nor abide
(As I ride, as I ride)
O’er each visioned Homicide
That came vaunting (has he lied?)
To reside—where he died,
As I ride, as I ride.
As I ride, as I ride,
Ne'er has spur my swift horse plied,
Yet his hide, streaked and pied,
As I ride, as I ride,
Shows where sweat hassprung and dried,

-Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed-
How has vied stride with stride
As I ride, as I ride!
As I ride, as I ride,
Could I loose what Fate has tied,
Ere I pried, she should hide
As I ride, as I ride,
All that's meant me: satisfied
When the Prophet and the Bride
Stop veins I'd have subside
As I ride, as I ride!

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN

A Child's Story (WRITTEN FOR, AND INSCRIBED TO, W. M. THE YOUNGER)

HAMELIN Town's in Brunswick,
11 By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;