All at once the color flushes

Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes, And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over

Pale again as death did prove: But he clasped her like a lover,

And he cheered her soul with love.

So she strove against her weakness, Though at times her spirit sank: Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank:

And a gentle consort made he,

And her gentle mind was such That she grew a noble lady,

And the people loved her much. But a trouble weighed upon her,

And perplexed her, night and morn,

With the burthen of an honor

Unto which she was not born.

Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
As she murmured, "O, that he
Were once more that landscape-painter
Which did win my heart from me!"
So she drooped and drooped before him,
Fading slowly from his side:
Three fair children first she bore him,
Then before her time she died.

9

Weeping, weeping late and early,

Walking up and pacing down,
Deeply mourned the Lord of Burleigh.
Burleigh-house by Stamford town.

And he came to look upon her,

And he looked at her and said,

'Bring the dress, and put it on her
That she wore when she was wed."
Then her people, softly treading,

Bore to earth her body, dressed
In the dress that she was wed in,
That her spirit might have rest.

"AS THROUGH THE LAND."

As through the land at eve we went,
And plucked the ripened ears,

We fell out, my wife and I,

O, we fell out, I know not why,

And kissed again with tears.

For when we came where lies the child
We lost in other years,

There above the little grave,

O, there above the little grave,

We kissed again with tears.

SWEET AND LOW.

SWEET and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while

my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west,

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD.

HOME they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:

All her maidens, watching, said,

"She must weep or she will die.”

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;

Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,

Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face:
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee-
Like summer tempest came her tears-
"Sweet my child, I live for thee."

THE BUGLE SONG.

THE splendor falls on castle walls
snowy summits old in story;

And

The long light shakes across the lakes,

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying.
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going;

O sweet and far, from cliff and scar,

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow for ever and for ever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

"ASK ME NO MORE."

Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;

The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;

But, O too fond, when have I answered thee?
Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: what answer should I give?
I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:
Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live!
Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are sealed:
I strove against the stream and all in vain :
Let the great river take me to the main:
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;
Ask me no more.