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Oft pitchedst here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when Noon upon his fervid car
Rode o'er the deep of heaven. Beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream!
Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.

Our bards are famed who strike the silver wire :
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains,
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance.
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.

TO AUTUMN

O AUTUMN, laden with thy fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayst rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

"The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clustering Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feathered clouds strew flowers round her head.

"The Spirits of the Air live on the smells

Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat;

Then rose, girded himself, and o'er bleak hills
Fled from our sight; but left his golden load,

TO WINTER

O WINTER! bar thine adamantine doors:

The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

He hears me not, but o'er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchained, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes
For he hath reared his sceptre o'er the world.

Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks :
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

He takes his seat upon the cliffs,-the mariner
Cries out in vain. Poor little wretch, that deal'st
With storms!-till heaven smiles, and drives the

monster

Yelling beneath Mount Hecla to his caves.

TO THE EVENING STAR

THOU fair-haired Angel of the Evening,

Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy [own] bright torch of love-thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes [now]
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver.-Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And then the lion glares through the dun forest.
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with

Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!

TO MORNING

O HOLY virgin, clad in purest white,
Unlock heaven's golden gates, and issue forth;
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honeyed dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant Morning, now salute the Sun,
Roused like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskined feet appear upon our hills.

FAIR ELENOR

THE bell struck one, and shook the silent tower
The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor
Walked by the castle-gate, and looked in:
A hollow groan ran through the dreary vaults.

She shrieked aloud, and sunk upon the steps,
On the cold stone, her pale cheeks. Sickly smells
Of death issue as from a sepulchre,

And all is silent but the sighing vaults.

Chill Death withdraws his hand, and she revives:
Amazed she finds herself upon her feet,
And, like a ghost, through narrow passages
Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.

Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones
And grinning skulls, and corruptible death
Wrapt in his shroud; and now fancies she hears
Deep sighs, and sees pale, sickly ghosts gliding.

At length, no fancy, but reality

Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet
Of one that fled, approaches.-Ellen stood,
Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.

The wretch approaches, crying: 'The deed is done!
Take this, and send it by whom thou wilt send;
It is my life-send it to Elenor:--

He's dead, and howling after me for blood!

'Take this,' he cried ; and thrust into her arms
A wet napkin, wrapt about; then rushed
Past, howling. She received into her arms
Pale death, and followed on the wings of fear.

They passed swift through the outer gate; the wretch,
Howling, leaped o'er the wall into the moat,
Stifling in mud. Fair Ellen passed the bridge,
And heard a gloomy voice cry 'Is it done?'

As the deer wounded, Ellen flew over
The pathless plain; as the arrows that fly

By night, destruction flies, and strikes in darkness.
She fled from fear, till at her house arrived.

Her maids await her; on her bed she falls,
That bed of joy where erst her lord hath pressed.
'Ah woman's fear!' she cried, 'ah cursed duke!
Ah my dear lord! ah wretched Elenor !

'My lord was like a flower upon the brows
Of lusty May! Ah life as frail as flower!
O ghastly Death! withdraw thy cruel hand!

Seek'st thou that flower to deck thy horrid temples?

'My lord was like a star in highest heaven
Drawn down to earth by spells and wickedness;
My lord was like the opening eyes of Day,
When western winds creep softly o'er the flowers.

'But he is darkened; like the summer's noon
Clouded; fall'n like the stately tree, cut down;
The breath of heaven dwelt among his leaves.
O Elenor, weak woman, filled with woe!'

Thus having spoke, she raisèd up her head,
And saw the bloody napkin by her side,

Which in her arms she brought; and now, tenfold
More terrified, saw it unfold itself.

Her eyes were fixed; the bloody cloth unfolds,
Disclosing to her sight the murdered head
Of her dear lord, all ghastly pale, clotted
With gory blood; it groaned, and thus it spake :

'O Elenor, behold thy husband's head,
Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,
Was reft of life by the accursed duke:
A hired villain turned my sleep to death.

'O Elenor, beware the cursed duke ;
Oh give not him thy hand, now I am dead.
He seeks thy love; who, coward, in the night,
Hired a villain to bereave my life.'

She sat with dead cold limbs, stiffened to stone;
She took the gory head up in her arms;
She kissed the pale lips; she had no tears to shed;
She hugged it to her breast, and groaned her last.

SONG

How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,

Till I the Prince of Love beheld

Who in the sunny beams did glide.

He showed me lilies for my hair,

And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May-dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

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