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140

They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed ; And I-my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed : 130 And yet he moaned beneath his breath,

o come in life, or come in death ! O lost ! my love, Elizabeth.' And didst thou visit him no more ?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; The waters laid thee at his doore,

136 Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,

That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea; A fatal ebbe and flow, alas !

To manye more than myne and mee :
But each will mourn his own (she saith), 145
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,

Čusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! ' calling,
Ere the early dews be falling ;
I shall never hear her song,

Cusha ! Cusha !’ all along
Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
Goeth, floweth ;

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From the meads where melick groweth,
When the water winding down,
Onward floweth to the town.
I shall never see her more
Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 160

Shiver, quiver ;
Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy lonesome shore ;

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I shall never hear her calling,
* Leave your meadow grasses mellow,

Mellow, mellow;
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot ;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

170 Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow ;

Lightfoot, Whitefoot,
From your cloyers lift the head ;
Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow,
Jetty, to the milking shed.'

JEAN INGELOW.

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THE FORSAKEN MERMAN
Come, dear children, let us away :

Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay ;

Now the great winds shoreward 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!

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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 !

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Come, dear children, come away down !

Call no more!
One last look at the white-walled town,
And the little grey church on the windy shore.

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

Come away, come away!
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 ?
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 for ever and ау

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When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday ?
Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away ?
Once she sate with you and me,

50 On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of the far-off bell. She sigh’d, she look'd up through the clear green sea; She said : 'I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'Twill 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! 60 Saythy prayer, and come backtothekind sea-caves!'

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She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday ?

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, by 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 grey 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 stones, worn with

rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small-leaded

panes.
She sate by the pillar ; we saw her clear :
Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.
Dear heart,' I said, ' we are long alone.
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.'
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!

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,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy!
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well-

For the wheel where I spun,
And the blessed light of the sun!'
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,

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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 ;

100 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 ;

105 For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,

And the gleam of her golden hair.

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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 the 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 for ever

The kings of the sea.'

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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 ; Up the still, glistening beaches,

Up the creeks we will hie,

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