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PALLAS IN OLYMPUS.
Blissful, they turned them to go: but the fair-tressed Pallas
Athené Rose, like a pillar of tall white cloud, toward silver Olympus ; Far above ocean and shore, and the peaks of the isles and the
mainland ; Where no frost nor storm is, in clear blue windless abysses, High in the home of the summer, the seats of the happy Im.
mortals, Shrouded in keen deep blaze, unapproachable ; there ever youthful
Iebé, Harmonié, and the daughter of Jove, Aphrodité,
and the Graces, Hand within hand, while clear piped Phoebe, queen of the wood
lands. All day long they rejoiced : but Athené still in her chamber Bent herself over her loom, as the stars rang loud to her singing, Chanting of order and right, and of foresight, warden of nations ; Chanting of labour and craft, and of wealth in the port and the
garner ; Chanting of valour and fame, and the man who can fall with
the foremost, Fighting for children and wife, and the field which his father
bequeathed him. Sweetly and solemnly sang she, and planned new lessons foz
mortals ; Happy who, tearing, obey her, the wise unsullied Athené.
THE LAST BUCCANIER.
O England is a pleasant place for them that's rich and high,
There were forty craft in Avès that were both swift and stout,
Thence we sailed against the Spaniard with his hoards of plate
and gold, Which he wrung with cruel torture from Indian folk of old ; Likewise the merchant captains, with hearts as hard as stone, Who flog men and keelhaul them, and starve them to the bone. O the palms grew high in Avès, and fruits that shone like gold And the colibris and parrots they were gorgeous to behold ; And the negro maids to Avès from bondage fast did flee, To welcome gallant sailors, a-sweeping in from sea.
O sweet it was in Avès to hear the landward breeze,
And now I'm old and going-I'm sure I can't tell where ;
THE SANDS OF DEE.
[From Alon Locke.] "O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee;'
And all alone went she.
The creeping tide came up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see ;
And never home came she.
A tress o' golden hair,
O’drownèd maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sca?
Among the stakes on Dee.'
The cruel, crawling foam,
The cruel, hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea.;
Across the sands o' Dee.
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray:
For every day.
Do noble .nings, not dream them, all day long. And so make life, death, and that vast for ever
One grand, sweet song,
DOLCINO TO MARGARET.
The world goes up and the world goes down,
And the sunshine follows the rain ;
And the night will hallow the day !
Sweet wife ;
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ;
O the pleasant sight to see
While my love climbed up to me!
O the happy hours we lay
Courting through the summer's day!
O the weary haunt for me,
With his baby on my knee !
Loose the sail, rest the oar, float away dowrig
Fleeting and gliding by tower and town. Life is so short at best! snatch, while thom canst, thy rest,
Sleeping by me.
[From The Water-Babies.]
THE SONG OF MADAME DO-AS-YOU-WOULD-BE-DONE-BY.
I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world ;
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
As I played in the heath one day ;
But I never could find where she lay.
As I played in the heath one day :
For her paint is all washed away,
And her hair not the least bit curled :
The prettiest doll in the world.
THE 'OLD, OLD SONG.'
And all the trees are green ;
And every lass a queen ;
And round the world away ;
And every dog his day.
And all the trees are brown ;
And all the wheels run ilown :
The spent and mained among :
You loved when all was young.