And welcome her, welcome the land's desire, The sea-kings' daughter, as happy as fair, Blissful bride of a blissful heir, sea O joy to the people, and joy to the throne, Come to us, love us, and make us your own, Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head; Nor thrice your branching limes have blown Since I beheld young Laurence Oh, your sweet eyes, your low replies: For Saxon or Dane or Norman we, of thee, When thus he met his mother's She had the passions of her kind, you. Indeed I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear: Her manners had not that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, There stands a spectre in your hall: The guilt of blood is at your door: You changed a wholesome heart to gall. You held your course without remorse, To make him trust his modest worth, And, last, you fixed a vacant stare, And slew him with your noble birth. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, The grand old gardener and his wife I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, The languid light of your proud eyes Two children in two neighbor villages [leas: Playing mad pranks along the healthy With self-wrought evil of unnum- Two strangers meeting at a festival: Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall: bered years, And doth the fruit of her dishonor reap. And all the day heaven gathers back her tears Into her own blue eyes so clear and deep, And showering down the glory of lightsome day, Smiles on the earth's worn brow to win her if she may. Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease: Two graves grass-green beside a gray church-tower Washed with still rains and daisyblossomed; Two children in one hamlet born and bred: [to hour. So runs the round of life from hour WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. ALTHOUGH I enter not, AT THE CHURCH-GATE. The minster-bell tolls out And noise and humming; With modest eyes downcast; I will not enter there, She comes,-she's here,- she's past; But suffer me to pace May heaven go with her! Kneel undisturbed, fair saint, Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly; Round the forbidden place, Like outcast spirits who wait, FAREWELL. CELIA THAXTER. THE crimson sunset faded into gray; Upon the murmurous sea the twi light fell; The last warm breath of the delicious day Passed with a mute farewell. Above my head, in the soft purple sky, A wild note sounded like a shrill voiced bell; THERE is no day so dark Three gulls met, wheeled, and parted But through the murk some ray of with a cry That seemed to say, 66 Farewell!" I watched them; one sailed east, and one soared west, And one went floating south; while like a knell That mournful cry the empty sky possessed, "Farewell, farewell, farewell!" "Farewell!" I thought, it is the earth's one speech; All human voices the sad chorus swell; Though mighty love to heaven's high gate may reach, Yet must he say, "Farewell!" The rolling world is girdled with the sound, Perpetually breathed from all who dwell Upon its bosom, for no place is found Where is not heard, "Farewell!" hope may steal, |