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The village maid steals through the shade
Her shepherd's suit to hear ;
Sings high-born Cavalier.
Now reigns o’er earth and sky,
SIR W. SCOTT.
TO THE EVENING STAR
Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even,
Companion of retiring day,
Belovéd Star, dost thou delay ?
When soft the tear of twilight flows ; So due thy plighted love returns
To chambers brighter than the rose ; To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love
So kind a star thou seem'st to be, Sure some enamour'd orb above
Descends and burns to meet with thee. Thine is the breathing, blushing hour,
When all unheavenly passions fly, Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of Love's delicious witchery. O! sacred to the fall of day,
Queen of propitious stars, appear, And early rise, and long delay,
When Caroline herself is here ! Shine on her chosen green resort,
Whose trees the sunward summit crown, And wanton flowers, that well may court
An angel's feet to tread them down.
Shine on her sweetly-scented road,
Thou star of evening's purple dome, That lead'st the nightingale abroad,
And guid'st the pilgrim to his home. Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms the soft exhaling dew, Where dying winds a sigh bequeath
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue.
Where, winnow'd by the gentle air,
Her silken tresses darkly flow, And fall upon her brow so fair,
Like shadows on the mountain snow.
Thus, ever thus, at day's decline
In converse sweet to wander far-
TO THE NIGHT
Swiftly walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear Which make thee terrible and dear,
Swift be thy flight !
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Come, long-sought !
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sigh'd for thee;
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
I sigh'd for thee.
· Wouldst thou me?'
Murmur'd like a noontide bee,
'No, not thee!'
Soon, too soon-
Of neither would I ask the boon
35 P. B. SHELLEY.
TO A DISTANT FRIEND Why art thou silent ? Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair ? Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ? Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,
Bound to thy service with unceasing careThe mind's least generous wish a mendicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak !—though this soft warm heart, once free to
hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
11 Than a forsaken bird's-nest fill'd with snow
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantineSpeak, that my torturing doubts their end may know !
In silence and tears,
To sever for years,
Colder thy kiss ;
Sorrow to this !
10 It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
And light is thy fame :
A knell to mine ear;
20 They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well :
Too deeply to tell.
In silence I grieve
Thy spirit deceive.
191 HAPPY INSENSIBILITY In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Their green felicity :
From budding at the prime.
Too happy, happy brook,
Apollo's summer look ;
About the frozen time.
Ah, would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy !
Whom the fates sever
Parted for ever ?
Sounds the far billow,