heated eyne!

So their wan limbs no more might come between

The moon and the moon's reflex in the night,

thee.

We beat upon our aching hearts in rage; We cry for thee; we deem the world thy tomb.

As dwellers in lone planets look upon

light.

gloom,

Making their day dim, so we gaze on thee. Come, thou of many crowns, white-robed love,

Oh! rend the veil in twain: all men adore thee;

Heaven crieth after thee; earth waiteth for thee;

Breathe on thy wingéd throne, and it shall move

In music and in light o'er land and sea.

Both alike, they buzz together,
Both alike, they hum together,
Through and through the flowered
heather.

Where in a creeping cove the wave unshockéd

Lays itself calm and wide.
Over a stream two birds of glancing
feather

Do woo each other, carolling together.
Both alike, they glide together,
Side by side;

Both alike, they sing together, Arching blue-glosséd necks beneath the purple weather.

Two children lovelier than Love adown the lea are singing,

As they gambol, lily-garlands ever string

ing:

Both in blosmwhite silk are frockéd:

Like, unlike, they roam together Under a summer vault of golden weather:

Like, unlike, they sing together
Side by side,

Mid May's darling golden lock-
éd,

Summer's tanling diamond eyed.

SONG.

Whither away, whither away, whither away Fly no more:

Whither away wi' the singing sail?
whither away wi' the oar?
Whither away from the high green field
and the happy blossoming shore?
Weary mariners, hither away,
One and all, one and all,
Weary mariners, come and play ;
We will sing to you all the day;

Furl the sail and the foam will fall
From the prow! One and all
Furl the sail! Drop the oar!
Leap ashore,

Know danger and trouble and toil no

more,

Whither away wi' the sail and the oar?
Drop the oar,
Leap ashore,
Fly no more!

Whither away wi' the sail? whither away wi' the oar?

Day and night to the billow the fountain calls:

Down shower the gambolling water-
falls

From wandering over the lea;
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,
And thick with white bells the clover-
hill swells

High over the full-toned sea.
Merrily carol the revelling gales
Over the islands free :

From the green seabanks the rose
down trails

To the happy brimmed sea. Come hither, come hither and be our lords,

For merry brides are we : We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words.

O listen, listen, your eyes shall glis

ΤΟ

415

Whither away?

Drop the oar;
Hither away
Leap ashore;

O fly no more— no more:

Whither away, whither away, whither away with the sail and the oar?

Οἱ ρέοντες.

I.

All men do walk in sleep, and all
Have faith in that they dream:
For all things are as they seem to all,
And all things flow like a stream.

II.

There is no rest, no calm, no pause,
Nor good nor ill, nor light nor shade,
Nor essence nor eternal laws :

For nothing is, but all is made.
But if I dream that all these are,
They are to me for that I dream ;

And all things flow like a stream.

Argal-this very opinion is only true relatively to the flowing philosophers.

SONNET.

MINE be the strength of spirit fierce and free,

Like some broad river rushing down alone, With the selfsame impulse wherewith he was thrown

From his loud fount upon the echoing lea:

Which with increasing might doth forward flee

By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, and isle,

And in the middle of the green salt sea Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile.

Mine be the Power which ever to its sway
Will win the wise at once, and by degrees
May into uncongenial spirits flow;
Even as the great gulfstream of Florida
Floats far away into the Northern seas
The lavish growths of southern Mexico.

ΤΟ

I.

ALL good things have not kept aloof,
Nor wandered into other ways;
I have not lacked thy mild reproof,
Nor golden largess of thy praise,
But life is full of weary days.

THE North-wind fall'n, in the new-starréd night

Zidonian Hanno, voyaging beyond
The hoary promontory of Soloë
Past Thymiaterion, in calméd bays,
Between the southern and the western
Horn,

Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,
Nor melody of the Libyan lotus flute
Blown seaward from the shore; but from
a slope

That ran bloom-bright into the Atlantic blue,

Beneath a highland leaning down a weight Ofcliffs, and zoned below with cedar shade, Came voices, like the voices in a dream, Continuous, till he reached the outer sea.