Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure; Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father Brute. She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, They stayed her flight with his crossflowing course. The water-nymphs that in the bottom played, Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropped in ambrosial oils, till she revived, And underwent a quick immortal change, Made Goddess of the river: still she mace, And Tethys' grave majestic pace, Sleeking her soft alluring locks, And bridle in thy headlong wave, answered Listen and save. SABRINA rises, attended by waternymphs, and sings. By the rushy-fringed bank, Where grow the willow and the osier dank, My sliding chariot stays, Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen Of turkis blue, and emerald green, That in the channel strays; Whilst from off the waters fleet, Thus I set my printless feet INTELLECTUAL. D'er the cowslip's velvet head, Spir.- Goddess dear, We implore thy powerful hand Of true virgin here distressed, Through the force, and through the wile Of unblest enchanter vile. To help ensnared chastity: I touch with chaste palms moist and cold: Now the spell hath lost his hold; And I must haste ere morning hour To wait in Amphitrite's bower. SABRINA descends, and the LADY Spir.- Virgin, daughter of Lo- Sprung of old Anchises' line, us grace, And not many furlongs thence Will double all their mirth and cheer; But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the President's castle; then come in country dancers, after them the ATTENDANT SPIRIT, with the Two BROTHERS, and the LADY. SONG. Spir.- Back, Shepherds, back, Till next sunshine holiday; Of lighter toes, and such court guise This second Song presents them to Noble Lord, and Lady bright, Their faith, their patience, and And sent them here through hard assays With a crown of deathless praise, To triumph in victorious dance O'er sensual folly, and intemperance. The dances ended, the SPIRIT epilogizes. Spir. To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye, Up in the broad fields of the sky: There I suck the liquid air Thither all their bounties bring; Holds his dear Psyche sweet en tranced, After her wandering labors long, And from her fair unspotted side But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon Mortals, that would follow me, MYTHOLOGY. O NEVER rudely will I blame his faith In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely The human being's Pride that peoples space Than lies upon that truth we live to learn. For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace: Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, And spirits; and delightedly believes The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanished; They live no longer in the faith of For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu' the cress flower round the spring The scarlet hypp, and the hind berry, And the nut that hangs frae the hazel tree; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', And lang may she seek in the greenwood shaw; Lang the laird of Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet ere Kilmeny come hame. When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung, When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead-bell rung, Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still, When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, The wood was sere, the moon in the wane, The reek of the cot hung over the plain Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane; When the ingle glowed with an eiry As still was her look, and as still was her ee, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. For Kilmeny had been she knew not where, And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew; But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung, And the airs of heaven played round her tongue, When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, And a land where sin had never been A land of love and a land of light, Withouten sun, or moon, or night; And lovely beings round were rife, Who erst had travelled mortal life; They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair, They kissed her cheek and they kemed her hair; And round came many a blooming fere, Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome here! Oh, bonny Kilmeny, free frae stain, If ever you seek the world again That world of sin, of sorrow, and Then Kilmeny begged again to see The friends she had left in her own countrye; With distant music soft and deep, They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep; And when she awakened, she lay her lane, All happed with flowers in the greenwood wene. When seven long years had come and fled; When grief was calm, and hope was dead; When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name, Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny came hame! And oh, her beauty was fair to see, But still and steadfast was her ee! And oh, the words that fell from her mouth Were words of wonder and words of truth! Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead; (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think,) And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, That I revived and was an emperor. Ah, me! how sweet is love itself possessed When but love's shadows are so rich in joy. SHAKSPEARE: Romeo and Juliet. SHIPS AT SEA. I HAVE ships that went to sea I have seen them, in my sleep, While around them screamed the gulls, Flying low, flying low. I have wondered why they staid From me, sailing round the world; And I've said, "I'm half afraid That their sails will ne'er be furled." Great the treasures that they hold, — Every sailor in the port Knows that I have ships at sea, Of the waves and winds the sport; And the sailors pity me. Oft they come and with me walk, I have waited on the piers, Gazing for them down the bay, Days and nights, for many years, Till I turned heart-sick away. But the pilots, when they land, Stop and take me by the hand, |