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Perfumes far.sweeter than the best
That make the phenix urn and nest :

Fear not your ships,
Nor any to oppose you save our lips ;

But come on shore,
Where no joy dies till love has gotten more.

Sand-strewn caverns cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep ;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam;
Where the salt weed sways in the stream ;
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground ;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world forever and aye ?

When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?

For swelling waves our panting breasts,

Where never storms arise, Exchange ; and be awhile our guests :

For stars, gaze on our eyes.
The compass, love shall hourly sing;
And, as he goes about the ring,

We will not miss .
To tell each point he nameth with a kiss.

WILLIAM BROWNE.

THE FORSAKEN MERMAN.

Come, dear children, let us away ;

Down and away below. Now my brothers call from the bay ; Now the great winds shorewards blow; Now the salt tides seaward flow ; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Children dear, let us away.

This way, this way.

Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away?
Once she sat with you and me,

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea.

And the youngest sat on her knee. She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of the far-off bell, She sighed, she looked up through the clear

green sea, She said, “I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little gray church on the shore to-day. "T will be Easter-time in the world, – ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with

thee." I said : “Go up, dear heart, through the waves : Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea

caves." She sniiled, she went up through the surf in the

bay,
Children dear, was it yesterday?

Call her once before you go.

Call once yet,
In a voice that she will know :

“Margaret ! Margaret ! ” Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear : Children's voices wild with pain,

Surely she will come again. Call her once, and come away,

This way, this way. “Mother dear, we cannot stay ! The wild white horses foam and fret,

Margaret ! Margaret !"

Come, dear children, come away down.

(all no more. One last look at the white-walled town, And the little gray church on the windy shore,

Then come down. She will not come, though you call all day.

Come away, come away.

Children dear, were we long alone ? “The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan ; Long prayers," I said, “in the world they say." “Come," I said, and we rose through the surf in

the bay. We went up the beach in the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled

town, Through the narrow paved streets, where all was

still, To the little gray church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at

their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climbed on the graves, on the stoves worm

with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small

leaded panes, She sat by the pillar; we saw her clear ; “ Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. Dear heart," I said, “We are here alone. The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."

Children dear, was it yesterday
We heard the sweet bells over the bay ?

In the caverns where we lay,

Through the surf and through the swell, The far-off sound of a silver bell?

But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.
“Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the

door."
Come away, children, call no more,
Come away, come down, call no more.

Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie;
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze from the sand-hills,
At the white sleeping towu ;
At the church on the hillside —
And then come back, down.
Singing, “There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she :
She left lonely forever
The kings of the sea."

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

UNA AND THE RED CROSSE KNIGHT.

FROM "THE FAERIE QUEENE," BOOK I. CANTO 1.

Down, down, down,

Down to the depths of the sea.
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully.
Hark what she sings : “O joy, 0 joy,
From the humming street, and the child with

its toy, From the priest and the bell, and the holy well,

From the wheel where I spun,
And the blessed light of the sun."
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,
Till the shuttle falls from her hand,

And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,

And over the sand at the sea ;
And her eyes are set in a stare ;
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,

A long, long sigh,
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,
And the gleam of her golden hair. .

A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did re.

maine, The cruell markes of many a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did he never wield : His angry steede did chide his foning bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield :

Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters

fitt.

Come away, away, children,
Come, children, come down.
The hoarse wind blows colder,
Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door ;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear tlie waves roar.
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl, -
Singing, “ Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she,
And alone dwell forever
The kings of the sea."

Anid on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he

wore,
And dead, as living cver, him ador'd :
Upon his shield the like was also scor’d,
For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had,
Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word ;

But of his cheere, * did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. +

Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
That greatest glorious queene of Faery lond,
To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave:
And ever, as he rode, his hart did earne
To prove his puissance in battell brave

Upou his foe, and his new force to learne ;
Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.

But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starred with broom ;
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanched sands a gloom :

A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white then snow;
Yet she much whiter ; but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ;

* countenance.

| dreaded

And over all a blacke stole shee did throw: And, more to lulle him in his slumber soft, As one that inly mournd, so was she sad, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ;

downe, Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ; And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad. | Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the

sowne * So pure and innocent as that same lambe Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne. + She was in life and every vertuous lore ; No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, And by descent from royall lynage came

As still are wont t'annoy the wallèd towne, Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore Might there be heard ; but carelesse Quiet lyes Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne Wrapt in eternall silence, farre from enimyes. shore,

EDMUND SPENSER. And all the world in their subiection held; Till that infernall feend with foule uprore Forwasted * all their land, and then expeld;

UNA AND THE LION. Whom to avenge, she had this Knight from far

FROM THE “FAERIE QUEENE," BOOK I. CANTO III. compeld.

One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,

From her unhastie beast she did alight; Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,

And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay That lasie seemd, in being ever last,

In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight; Or wearied with bearing of her bag

From her fayre head her fillet she undight, Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, And layd her stole aside. Her angels face, The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast, As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, And angry love an hideous storme of raine

And made a sunshine in the shady place ; Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,

| Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace. That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain ; And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves

It fortunèd, out of the thickest wood were fain.

A ramping lyon rushed suddeinly,

Hunting full greedy after salvage blood : 1 Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,

Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, A shadie grove not farr away they spide,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, That promist ayde the tempest to withstand ;

To have attonce devoured her tender corse ; Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,

But to the pray whenas he drew more ny,

His bloody rage aswaged with remorse, 8
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr :

And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious

forse. And all within were pathes and alleies wide, With footing worne, and leading inward farr :

Instead thereof, he kist her wearie feet, Faire harbour that them seemes ; so in they

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong ; entred ar.

As he her wronged innocence did weet. I
O how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!

Whose yielded pryde and proud submission,
THE CAVE OF SLEEP.

Stilld reading death, when she had marked long, FROM THE “FAERIE QUEENE," BOOK I. CANTO 1. Her hart gan melt in great compassion ;

And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. He, making speedy way through spersed tayre, And through the world of waters wide and deepe, “ The lyon, lord of everie beast in field," To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire,

Quoth she, “his princely puissance doth abate, Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, And low, where dawning day doth never peepe,

Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late His dwelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed

Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

But he, my lyon, and my noble lord, In silver cleaw his ever-drouping hed,

How does he find in cruell hart to hate Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth

Her, that him lovd, and ever most adord spred.

As the god of my life? why hath he me abhord ?"'

EDMUND SPENSER.

• sound.

blood of wild animale

swoon- deep sleep. $ pity.

I understand

* For is here intensive

dispersed.

EDMUND SPENSER.

Redounding tears did choketh'end of her plaint, I Was over wrought, and shapes of naked boyes,
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood ; Of which some seemed with lively iollitee
And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint, To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood ; Whylest others did themselves embay * in liquid
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry moor... ioyes.
At last, in close hart shutting up her payne,
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood,

And over all, of purest gold, was spred
And to her snowy palfrey got agayne,

A trayle of yvie in his native hew; To seeke her strayèd chainpion if she might at

For the rich metall was so coloured,

That wight, who did not well avised + it vew, tayne.

Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew :

Low his lascivious armes adowu did creepe, The lyon would not leave her desolate,

That, themselves dipping in the silver dew, But with her went along, as a strong gard

Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe, Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate

Which drops of christall seemed for wantones to Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and

weep. ward ;

Infinit streames continually did well And, when she wakt, he wayted diligent,

Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, With humble service to her will prepard ; The which into an ample laver fell, From her fayre eyes he took commandment,

And shortly grew to so great quantitie,
And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.

That like a little lake it seemed to bee;
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight,
That through the waves one might the bottom

see,

All pav'd beneath with iaspar shining bright, THE BOWER OF BLISS.

That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle FROM THE "FAERIE QUEENE," BOOK II. CANTO XII.

upright. THERE the most daintie paradise on ground

Eftsoons I they heard a most melodious sound, Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye,

Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, In which all pleasures plenteously abownd,

Such as attonce might not on living ground, And none does others happinesse envye ;

Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere. The painted flowres ; the trees upshooting hye;

Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, The dales for shade ; the hilles for breathing

To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; space ;

For all that pleasing is to living eare The trembling groves; the christall running by; /

Was there consorted in one harmonee ; And, that which all faire workes doth most rindas

I most | Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all aggrace, * The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no

agree : place.

The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade,

Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet ; One would have thought (so cunningly the rude

Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made And scorned partes were mingled with the fine)

To th' instruments divine respondence meet ; That Nature had for wantonesse ensude +

The silver-sounding instruments did meet Art, and that Art at Nature did repine ;

With the base murmure of the waters fall ; So striving each th' other to undermine,

The waters fall, with difference discreet, Each did the others worke more beautify;

Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; So difføring both in willes agreed in fine :

The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. So all agreed, through sweete diversity, This gardin to adorne with all variety.

THE LADY LOST IN THE WOOD. And in the midst of all a fountaine stood,

FROM "COMUS." Of richest substance that on earth might bee, Tuus way the noise was, if mine ear be true, So pure and shiny that the silver flood My best guide now; methought it was the sound Through every channellrunning one might see; of riot and ill-managed merriment, Most goodly it with curious ymageree

Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe • give grace to

imitated
• bathe. I with attention.

iininediately

EDMUND SPENSER.

Mps

Stirs up amongst the loose, unlettered hinds, | Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
When for their teeming flocks and granges full That had the sceptre from his father Brute.
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath Of her enragèd stepdame Guendolen,
To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence Commended her fair innocence to the flood,
Of such late wassailers ; yet 0, where else That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet

course.
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? The water-nymphs that in the bottom played,
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in,
With this long way, resolving here to lodge Bearing her straight to aged Nerens' hall,
Under the spreading favor of these pines, Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket side And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,
As the kind, hospitable woods provide.

And through the porch and inlet of each sense They left me then, when the gray-hooded even, Dropped in ambrosial oils, till she revived, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,

And underwent a quick immortal change, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phæhus' wain. Made Goddess of the river: still she retains But where they are, and why they came not Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve back,

Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, Is now the labor of my thoughts : 't is likeliest | Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs They had engaged their wandering steps too far, That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make, And envious darkness, ere they could return, which she with precious vialed liquors heals ; Had stole them from me ; else, O thievish night, For which the shepherds at their festivals Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, Carol her goodness loud in riistic lays, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, And throw sweet garland wieaths into her stream That nature hung in heaven, and filled their Of pansies pinks, and gaudy daffodils.

MILION lamps With everlasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely traveller ? This is the place, as well as I may guess,

THE HAUNT OF THE SORCERER. Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear,

FROM "COMUS." Yet naught but single darkness do I find.

Within the navel of this hideous wood, What might this be? A thousand fantasies

Immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells, Begin to throng into my memory,

Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,

Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries ; And airy tongues, that syllable men's names

And here to every thirsty wanderer On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.

By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, These thoughts may startle well, but not astound

With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended

poison By a strong-siding champion, Conscience.

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, O welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,

to | And the inglorious likeness of a beast Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, I

Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage And thou inblemished form of Chastity ;

| Charactered in the face : this I have learnt I see you visibly, and now believe

Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts, That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things illi

That brow this bottom-glade, whence night by Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,

night, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl, To keep my life and honor unassailed.

Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate

In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. THE NYMPH OF THE SEVERN.

Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells, FROM "COMUS."

T'inveigle and invite the unwary sense THERE is a gentle nymph not far from hence of them that pass unweeting by the way. That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn This evening late, by them the chewing flocks stream.

Had ta'en their supper on the savory herb Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ;

Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,

MILTON.

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