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She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller betwixt life and death ;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill,
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light.


O NIGHTINGALE! thou surely art
A creature of a fiery heart:
These notes of thine-they pierce and pierce;
Tumultuous harmony and fierce !
Thou sing'st as if the god of wine
Had helped thee to a valentine;
A song in mockery and despite
Of shades, and dews, and silent night;
And steady bliss, and all the loves
Now sleeping in these peaceful groves.
I heard a stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze;
He did not cease; but cooed—and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending ;
Of serious faith and inward glee;
That was the song—the song for me!


THREE years


grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.
“Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.

She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
“The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend :
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
“And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.”
Thus Nature spake—the work was done-
How soon my Lucy's race was run;
She died and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.


A SLUMBER did my spirit seal ;

I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees,
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees !


WHEN the brothers reached the

gateway, Eustace pointed with his lance To the horn which there was hanging; Horn of the inheritance. Horn it was which none could sound, No one upon living ground, Save he who came as rightful heir To Egremont's domains and castle fair. Heirs from ages without record Had the house of Lucie born, Who of right had claimed the lordship By the proof upon the horn: Each at the appointed hour Tried the horn-it owned his power; He was acknowledged: and the blast Which good Sir Eustace sounded was the last. With his lance Sir Eustace pointed, And to Hubert thus said he What I speak this horn shall witness For thy better memory.

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