PALLAS IN OLYMPUS.

[From Andromeda.]

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,
Whirled in the white-linked dance with the gold-crowned Hours

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,
But England is a cruel place for such poor folks as 1 :
And such a port for mariners I ne'er shall see again
As the pleasant Isle of Avès, beside the Spanish Main

There were forty craft in Avès that were both swift and stout,
All furnished well with small arms and cannons round about ;
And a thousand men in Avès made laws so fair and free
To choose their valiant captains and obey them loyally.

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,
A-swing with good tobacco in a net between the trees,
With a negro lass to fan you, while you listened to the roar
Of the breakers on the reef outside, that never touched the shore,
But Scripture saith, an ending to all fine things must be ;
So the King's ships sailed on Avès, and quite put down were we.
All day we fought like bull-dogs, but they burst the booms at

night ;
And I fled in a piragua, sore wounded, from the fight.
Nine days I floated starving, and a negro lass beside,
Till, for all I tried to cheer her, the poor young thing she died;
But as I lay a-gasping, a Bristol sail came by,
And brought me home to England here, to beg until I die.

And now I'm old and going-I'm sure I can't tell where ;
Ine comfort is, this world's so hard, I can't be worse off there :
If I might but be a sea-dove, I'd fly across the main,
To the pleasant Isle of Avès, to look at it cnce again.

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;'
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam,

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 ;
The blinding mist came down and hid the land

And never home came she.
*Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-

A tress o' golden hair,

O’drownèd maiden's hair,

Above the nets at sca?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair,

Among the stakes on Dee.'
They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel, crawling foam,

The cruel, hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea.;
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,

Across the sands o' Dee.

A FAREWELL.
My fairest child, I have no song to give you ;

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you

For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;

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 yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown
Can never come over again,

Sweet wife;
No, never come over again.
For woman is warm though man be cold,

And the night will hallow the day !
Till the heart which at even was weary and cold
Can rise in the morning gay,

Sweet wife ;
To its work in the morning gay.

AIRLY BEACON.

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ;

O the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,

While my love climbed up to me!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ;

O the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,

Courting through the summer's day!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ;

O the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon

With his baby on my knee !

A BOAT-SONG.

[From Hypatia.]

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 ;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,

And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,

As I played in the heath one day ;
And I cried for her more than a week, dears,

But I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears,

As I played in the heath one day :
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,

For her paint is all washed away,
And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,

And her hair not the least bit curled :
Yet, for old sake's sake, she is still, dears,

The prettiest doll in the world.

THE 'OLD, OLD SONG.'
When all the world is young, lad,

And all the trees are green ;
And every goose a swan, lad,

And every lass a queen ;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

And round the world away ;
Young blood must have its course, lad,

And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,

And all the trees are brown ;
And all the sport is stale, lad,

And all the wheels run ilown :
Creep home, and take your place there,

The spent and mained among :
God grant you find one face there

You loved when all was young.