ST. AGNES' EVE DEEP on the convent-roof the snows The shadows of the convent-towers Still creeping with the creeping hours Or this first snowdrop of the year As these white robes are soil'd and dark, As this pale taper's earthly spark, To yonder argent round; So shows my soul before the Lamb, So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be. Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, He lifts me to the golden doors; And deepens on and up! the gates For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, One sabbath deep and wide— A light upon the shining sea- SIR GALAHAD My good blade carves the casques of men, The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, They reel, they roll in clanging lists, How sweet are looks that ladies bend To save from shame and thrall: My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's. hand in mine. More bounteous aspects on me beam, When down the stormy crescent goes, Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there; Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I leap on board: no helmsman steers : A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail: The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, And, ringing, spins from brand and mail; I leave the plain, I climb the height; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven I muse on joy that will not cease, Whose odours haunt my dreams; This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. 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, EDWARD GRAY SWEET Emma Moreland of yonder town 'And have you lost your heart? she said; And are you married yet, Edward Gray? Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me: '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. 'Shy she was, and I thought her cold; Thought her proud, and fled over the sea; Fill'd 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 Here lies the body of Ellen Adair ; 'Love may come, and love may go, Till Ellen Adair come back to me. 'Bitterly wept I over the stone: WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE MADE AT THE COCK O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock, How goes the time? 'Tis five o'clock. Go fetch a pint of port: But let it not be such as that You set before chance-comers, But such whose father-grape grew fat No vain libation to the Muse, And whisper lovely words, and use To make me write my random rhymes, Nor add and alter, many times, |