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Ere she had spoken two words, had Philip released her

fingers:

As she went on, he recoiled, fell back, and shook and

shivered;

There he stood, looking pale and ghastly; when she had

ended,

Answering in hollow voice,

It is true; oh, quite true, Elspie; Oh, you are always right; oh, what, what have I been

doing?

I will depart to-morrow.

But oh, forget me not wholly, Wholly, Elspie, nor hate me; no, do not hate me, my

Elspie.

But a revulsion passed through the brain and bosom of

Elspie;

And she got up from her seat on the rock, putting by her

knitting;

Went to him, where he stood and answered:

No, Mr. Philip,

No, you are good, Mr. Philip, and gentle; and I am the

foolish :

No, Mr. Philip, forgive me.

She stepped right to him, and boldly Took up his hand, and placed it in hers; he dared no

movement;

Took up the cold hanging hand, up-forcing the heavy elbow. I am afraid, she said, but I will; and kissed the fingers. And he fell on his knees and kissed her own past counting.

But a revulsion wrought in the brain and bosom of Elspie; And the passion she just had compared to the vehement ocean,

Urging in high spring-tide its masterful way through the mountains,

Forcing and flooding the silvery stream, as it runs from the inland;

That great power withdrawn, receding here and passive, Felt she in myriad springs, her sources far in the mountains,

Stirring, collecting, rising, upheaving, forth-outflowing, Taking and joining, right welcome, that delicate rill in the valley,

Filling it, making it strong, and still descending, seeking, With a blind forefeeling descending ever, and seeking, With a delicious forefeeling, the great still sea before it; There deep into it, far, to carry, and lose in its bosom, Waters that still from their sources exhaustless are fain to be added.

As he was kissing her fingers, and knelt on the ground before her,

Yielding backward she sank to her seat, and of what she was doing

Ignorant, bewildered, in sweet multitudinous vague emotion, Stooping, knowing not what, put her lips to the hair on his

forehead:

And Philip, raising himself, gently, for the first time round.

her

Passing his arms, close, close, enfolded her, close to his bosom.

As they went home by the moon, Forgive me, Philip, she

whispered;

I have so many things to think of, all of a sudden;

I who had never once thought a thing, in my ignorant Highlands.

FROM 'SONGS IN ABSENCE.' 17

COME back, come back, behold with straining mast
And swelling sail, behold her steaming fast;

With one new sun to see her voyage o'er,

With morning light to touch her native shore.
Come back, come back.

Come back, come back, while westward laboring by,
With sailless yards, a bare black hulk we fly.
See how the gale we fight with sweeps her back,
To our lost home, on our forsaken track.

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back, across the flying foam,
We hear faint far-off voices call us home,
Come back, ye seem to say; ye seek in vain ;
We went, we sought, and homeward turned again.
Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; and whither back or why?
To fan quenched hopes, forsaken schemes to try;
Walk the old fields; pace the familiar street;
Dream with the idlers, with the bards compete.
Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; and whither and for what?
To finger idly some old Gordian knot,

Unskilled to sunder, and too weak to cleave,
And with much toil attain to half-believe.

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; yea back, indeed, do go Sighs panting thick, and tears that want to flow; Fond fluttering hopes upraise their useless wings, And wishes idly struggle in the strings;

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back, more eager than the breeze,
The flying fancies sweep across the seas,

And lighter far than ocean's flying foam,
The heart's fond message hurries to its home.
Come back, come back!

Come back, come back!

Back flies the foam; the hoisted flag streams back ;

The long smoke wavers on the homeward track,
Back fly with winds things which the winds obey,
The strong ship follows its appointed way.

SAY NOT THE STRUggle nougHT AVAILETH.

SAY not, the struggle nought availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.

QUA CURSUM VENTUS.

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,
Two towers of sail at dawn of day

Are scarce long leagues apart descried;

When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:

E'en so

- but why the tale reveal

Of those whom, year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel,

Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered
Ah, neither blame, for neither willed,
Or wist, what first with dawn appeared!

To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
Through winds and tides one compass guides -
To that, and your own selves, be true.

But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,
On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.

One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare,
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
At last, at last, unite them there!

QUI LABORAT, ORAT.

O ONLY Source of all our light and life,

Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel, But whom the hours of mortal moral strife

Alone aright reveal!

Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought,
Thy presence owns ineffable, divine;
Chastised each rebel self-encentred thought,
My will adoreth Thine.

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