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III.

ROMEO. Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I 'll | Hand in hand, while the sun peered over, descend.

(Descends.) We lapped the grass on that youngling spring, JULIET. Art thou gone so ? my love! my Swept back its rushes, smoothed its clover, lord ! my friend !

And said, “Let us follow it westering."
I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days :
O, by this count I shall be much in years,

A dappled sky, a world of meadows;
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Circling above us the black rooks fly, ROMEO. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity Forward, backward : lo, their dark shadows That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Flit on the blossoming tapestry — JULIET. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

Flit on the beck - for her long grass parteth, ROMEO. I doubt it not; and all these woes

As hair from a maid's bright eyes blown back; shall serve

And lo, the sun like a lover darteth For sweet discourses in our time to come.

His flattering smile on her wayward track !

SHAKESPEARE.

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Bare grassy slopes, where the kids are tethered ; I LOVE thee, love thee, Giulio !
Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined ;

Some call me cold, and some demure,
Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered, And if thou hast ever guessed that so

I love thee Swell high in their freckled robes behind.

well, the proof was poor,

And no one could be sure. A rose-flush tender, a thrill, a quiver,

When golden gleams to the tree-tops glide ; Before thy song (with shifted rhymes
A flashing edge for the milk-white river,

To suit my name) did I undo
The beck, å river - with still sleek tide. . The persian? If it moved sometimes,

Thou hast not seen a hand push through Broad and white, and polished as silver,

A foolish flower or two.
On she goes under fruit-laden trees ;
Sunk in leafage cooeth the culver,

My mother listening to my sleep
And 'plaineth of love's disloyalties.

Heard nothing but a sigh at night,

The short sigh rippling on the deep, Glitters the dew, and shines the river;

When hearts run out of breath and sight Up comes the lily and dries her bell;

Of men, to God's clear light.
But two are walking apart forever,
And wave their hands for a mute farewell.

When others named thee, thought thy brows
Were straight, thy smile was tender,

“Here He comes between the vineyard-rows !”

I said not “Ay,” nor waited, dear,
A braver swell, a swifter sliding;

To feel thee step too near.
The river hasteth, her banks recede ;
Wing-like sails on her bosom gliding

I left such things to bolder girls,
Bear down the lily, and drown the reed.

Olivia or Clotilda. Nay,

When that Clotilda through her curls Stately prows are rising and bowing

Held both thine eyes in hers one day, (Shouts of mariners winnow the air)

I marveled, let me say.
And level sands for banks endowing
The tiny green ribbon that showed so fair.

I could not try the woman's trick :
While, O my heart! as white sails shiver,

Between us straightway fell the blush And crowds are passing, and banks stretch Which kept me separate, blind, and sick. wide,

A wind came with thee in a flush, How hard to follow, with lips that quiver,

As blown through Horeb's bush. That moving speck on the far-off side !

But now that Italy invokes Farther, farther ---- I see it know it

Her young men to go forth and chase My eyes brim over, it melts away :

The foe or perish,

- nothing chokes Only my heart to my heart shall show it,

My voice, or drives me from the place : As I walk desolate day by day.

I look thee in the face.

VII.

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From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play,
From the cool spring where they drank, –
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank,
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there,

Gone, gone, --- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,
Woe is me, my stolen daughters !

FAREWELL! THOU ART TOO DEAR.

Gone, gone,

-sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
() that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er,
And the fetter galls no more !
Gone, gone,

sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,
Woe is me, my stolen daughters !

FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate :
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving ?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not

knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter ;
In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter.

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