RICHARD HENGIST HORNE. HAJARLIS. I loved Hajarlis, and was loved,— And in my heart she also shone, A Sheik unto Hajarlis came, And said—" Thy beauty fires my dreams : Young Ornab spurn! fly to my tent! So shalt thou walk in golden beams." But from the Sheik my maiden turn'd, And I was fasten'd to a tree. Nor bread nor water had she there; But oft a slave would come and go; O'er the pit bent he, muttering words,— The simoom came with sullen glare! Breathed Desert-mysteries through my tree !— I only heard the starving sighs From that pit's mouth unceasingly. Day after day-night after night- For my sake, in my wild despair. Calm strode the Sheik, look'd down the pit, And said " Thy beauty now is gone; Thy last moans will thy lover hear, While thy slow torments feed my scorn!" They spared me that I still might know The pit was silent!-and I felt Her life-and mine-were with the past. A friend that night cut through my bonds; And cried-" A Spirit comes array'd, The camels blindly trod him down, While still we drove them o'er his bed; Then with a stone I beat his breast, As I would smite him ten times dead. MARY BETHAM HOWITT. THE FAIRies of thE CALDON LOW. A Midsummer Legend. "And where have you been? my Mary! And where have you been from me?" "I've been to the top of the Caldon Low, The midsummer-night to see." "And what did you see, my Mary! 66 "And what did you hear, my Mary! All up on the Caldon Hill?" "I heard the drops of the water made, And the ears of the green corn fill." "O tell me all, my Mary! All, all that ever you know: For you must have seen the Fairies "Then take me on your knee, Mother! "And their harp-strings rung so merrily "And what were the words, my Mary! That then you heard them say?" "I'll tell you all, my mother! But let me have my way. "Some of them play'd with the water, And roll'd it down the hill; 'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn The poor old miller's mill. "For there has been no water 66 6 Ever since the first of May; And a busy man will the miller be "O the miller how he will laugh When he sees the mill-dam rise! The jolly old miller, how he will laugh Till the tears fill both his eyes!' "And some, they seized the little winds And each put a horn unto his mouth, "And there,' they said,—' the merry winds go Away from every horn, 66 6 And they shall clear the mildew dank From the blind old widow's corn. ''O the poor blind widow, Though she has been blind so long, She'll be blithe enough when the mildew's gone "And some, they brought the brown lint-seed, "O the poor lame weaver, How will he laugh outright When he sees his dwindling flax-field "And then outspake a brownie, "I've spun a piece of hempen cloth, "With that I could not help but laugh, "And all on the top of the Caldon Low And nothing I saw but the mossy stones "But, coming down from the hill-top, How busy the jolly miller was, "And I peep'd into the widow's field, The yellow ears of the mildew'd corn "And down by the weaver's croft I stole But I met the weaver at his gate, "Now this is all I heard, Mother! So prithee make my bed, Mother! JEAN INGELOW. THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. The old mayor climb'd the belfry-tower, The ringers ran by two, by three ; "Pull, if ye never pull'd before! Good ringers! pull your best!" quoth he. "Play up, play up, O Boston bells! Ply all your changes, all your swells! Men say it was a stolen tide,- |