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Out spake their captain brave and bold,

A merry wight was he : 'If London Tower were Michael's hold,

We'll set Trelawny free! 'We'll cross the Tamar, land to land, The Severn is no stay,

one and all," and hand in hand,
And who shall bid us nay ?
And when we come to London Wall;

A pleasant sight to view,
Come forth ! Come forth, ye cowards all,

Here's men as good as you.
* Trelawny he 's in keep and hold,

Trelawny he may die ;
But here 's twenty thousand Cornish bold
Will know the reason why!'

R. S. HAWKER.

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308
THE SHANDON BELLS

With deep affection,
And recollection,
I often think of

Those Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle

Their magic spells.
On this I ponder
Where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder,

Sweet Cork, of thee;
With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters

of the River Lee.

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I've heard bells chiming
Full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in

Cathedral shrine,
While at a glibe rate
Brass tongues would vibrate-
But all their music

Spoke naught like thine ;
For memory, dwelling
On each proud swelling
Of thy belfry knelling

Its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the River Lee.
I've heard bells tolling
Old Adrian's Mole in,
Their thunder rolling

From the Vatican,
And cymbals glorious
Swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets

Of Notre Dame ;
But thy sounds were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter
Flings o'er the Tiber,

Pealing solemnly ;-
O! the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the River Lee.
There's a bell in Moscow,
While on tower and kiosk 0
In Saint Sophia

The Turkman gets ;
And loud in air
Calls men to prayer
From the tapering summit

Of tall minarets.

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Such empty phantom
I freely grant them ;
But there is an anthem
More dear to me,

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'Tis the bells of Shandon
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the River Lee.
F. MAHONY (FATHER PROUT).

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FROM 'SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE' I thought once how Theocritus had sung

Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,

Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young : And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,

I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,

The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair ;

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, • Guess now who holds thee ?? Death,' I said.

But there, The silver answer rang, .. Not Death, but Love."

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310 What can I give thee back, O liberal

And princely giver, who hast brought the gold

And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold, And laid them on the outside of the wall For such as I to take or leave withal,

In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,

Ungrateful, that for these most manifold High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?

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Not so; not cold,but very poor instead.

Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run The colours from my life, and left so dead

And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done To give the same as pillow to thy head.

Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.

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311 Yet love, mere love, is beautiful indeed

And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,

Let temple burn, or flax. An equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed.
And love is fire ; and when I say at need
I love thee ... mark!... I love thee! ...

I love thee! ...in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low

In love, when love the lowest : meanest creatures Who love God, God accepts while loving so.

And what I feel, across the inferior features Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show

How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.

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If thou must love me, let it be for naught

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

“I love her for her smile ... her look Of speaking gently, for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day

For these things in themselves, Belověd, may Bechanged, or change for thee,—andlove, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby ! But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

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313 How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

11 With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

E. B. BROWNING,

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314 A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT What was he doing, the great god Pan,

Down in the reeds by the river ?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,

Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat

With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,

From the deep cool bed of the river :
The limpid water turbidly ran,

And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,

Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sate the great god Pan,

While turbidly flowed the river ;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,

With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of a leaf indecd

To prove it fresh from the river.

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