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Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,-
Pomegranates, figs.'

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'Good folk,' said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
Give me much and many:'
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,'
They answered grinning:
“Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be lcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us.
*Thank you,' said Lizzie: “But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee.'
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil,
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiler her stocking,
Twitched her hair ont by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.

Though the goblins cuffed and caught her, 370 Coaxed and fought her,

Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;

Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laughed in heart to feel the drip

Of juice that syruped all her face, 380 And lodged in dimples of her chin,

And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,

Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some divell into the brook

With ring and ripple,
390 Some sculled on the gale without a sound,

Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro' the furze, 450
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle

Bouncing in her purse, -
400 Its bounce was music to her ear.

She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse :
But not one goblin skurriedl after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with

And inwarı laughter.


White and golden Lizzie stood, Like a lily in a flooil.


She cried, 'Laura,' up the garden,

Like a lightning-stricken mast, Did you miss me?

Like a wind-uprooted tree Come and kiss me.

Spun about, Never mind my bruises,

Like a foam-topped waterspout Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices

Cast down headlong in the sea, Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,

She fell at last; Goblin pulp and goblin dew.

470 Pleasure past and anguish past, Eat me, drink me, love me;

Is it death or is it life?
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake have braved the glen

Life out of death.
And had to do with goblin merchant men.'

That night long, Lizzie watched by her,

Counted her pulse's flagging stir, Laura started from her chair,

Felt for her breath, Flung her arms up in the air,

Held water to her lips, and cooled her face Clutched her bair:

With tears and fanning leaves. ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted

But when the first birds chirped about their For my sake the fruit forbidden?

eaves, Must your light like mine be hidden, 480

And early reapers plodded to the place Your young life like mine be wasted,

Of golden sheaves, Undone in mine undoing,

And dew-wet grass And ruined in my ruin,

Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass, Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden!'

And new buds with new day She clung about her sister,

Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream, Kissed and kissed and kissed her:

Laura awoke as from a dream, Tears once again

Laughed in the innocent old way, Refreshed her shrunken eyes,

Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice; Dropping like rain

Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of After long sultry drouth;


540 Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,

Her breath was sweet as May, She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth. And light danced in her eyes.



Her lips began to scorch,

Days, weeks, months, years That juice was wormwood to her tongue,

Afterwards, when both were wives
She loathed the feast:

With children of their own;
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and surg, Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Rent all her robe, and wrung

Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Her hands in lamentable haste,

Laura would call the little ones And beat her breast.

And tell them of her early prime, Her locks streamed like the torch


Those pleasant days long gone Borne by a racer at full speed,

Of not-returning time: Or like the mane of horses in their flight,

Would talk about the haunted glen, Or like an eagle when she stems the light

The wicked quaint fruit-merchant men, Straight toward the sun,

Their fruits like honey to the throat Or like a caged thing freed,

But poison in the blood Or like a flying flag when armies run.

(Men sell not such in any town):

Would tell them how her sister stood Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked In deadly peril to do her good, at her heart,

And win the fiery antidote: Met the fire smouldering there

Then joining hands to little hands And overbore its lesser flame;

Would bid them cling together,She gorged on bitterness without a name: 510 For there is no friend like a sister Ah fool, to choose such part

In calm or stormy weather; Of soul-consuming care!

To cheer one on the tedious way, Sense failed in the mortal strife:

To fetch one if one goes astray, Like the watch-tower of a town

To lift one if one totters down, Which an earthquake shatters down,

To strengthen whilst one stands.'




'Sweet, thou art pale.'

'More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father's wrath for me.'

In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust:
Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just.'
"And Might.'—

"Get thee behind me. Lord,
Who hast redeemed and not abhorred
My soul, oh keep it by Thy Word.'




'Sweet, thou art sad.'


I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple-tree More heavy, Christ for my sake trod

And wore them all that evening in my hair: The winepress of the wrath of God.'

Then in due season when I went to see

I found no apples there. "Sweet, thou art weary.'

Not so Christ; With dangling basket all along the grass Whose mighty love of me sufficed

As I had come I went the selfsame track: For Strength, Salvation, Eucharist.'

My neighbours mocked me while they saw me

pass 'Sweet, thou art footsore.'

So empty-handed back. "If I bleed,

Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by, His feet have bled; yea in my need


Their heaped-up basket teased me like a His Heart once bled for mine indeed.'


Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky, THE WORLD

Their mother's home was near. 'Sweet, thou art young.' "So He was young

Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full, Who for my sake in silence hung

A stronger hand than hers helped it along;

A voice talked with her through the shadows Upon the Cross with Passion wrung.'

More sweet to me than song.

16 'Look, thou art fair.' He was more fair

Ah Willie, Willie, was my love less worth Than men, Who deigned for me to wear

Than apples with their green leaves piled A visage marred beyond compare.'


above ?

I counted rosiest apples on the earth *And thou hast riches.'

Of far less worth than love. 'Daily bread: All else is His: Who, living, dead,

So once it was with me you stooped to talk For me lacked where to lay His Head.'

Laughing and listening in this very lane;

To think that by this way we used to walk "And life is sweet.'

We shall not walk again!

24 "It was not so To Him, Whose Cup did overflow

I let my neighbours pass me, ones and twos With mine unutterable woe.'

And groups; the latest said the night grew

And hastened: but I loitered; while the dews

Fell fast I loitered still. "Thou drinkest deep.' * When Christ would sup

MONNA INNOMINATA* He drained the dregs from out my cup:

1 So how should I be lifted up?'

Come back to me, who wait and watch for “Thou shalt win Glory.'

you: In the skies,

Or come not yet, for it is over then, Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes

And long it is before you come again, Lest they should look on vanities.'

30 So far between my pleasures are, and few.

* "Lady Unnamed"; a series of fourteen sonnets • Thou shalt have Knowledge.'

in which the personal utterance, as in Mrs.

Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese, 'Helpless dust!

wears a titular disguise.


While, when you come not, what I do I do May not the darkness hide it from my face! Thinking Now when he comes,' my sweetest You cannot miss that inn.

when': For one man is my world of all the men

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? This wide world holds; O love, my world is you.

Those who have gone before. Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? Because the pang of parting comes so soon;

They will not keep you standing at that door. My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Between the heavenly days on which we meet:

Of labour you shall find the sum. Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang

Will there be beds for me and all who seek? When life was sweet because you called them

Yea, beds for all who come. sweet?

2 I wish I could remember that first day,

WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) First hour, first moment of your meeting me,

If bright or dim the season,-it might be
Summer or Winter for aught I can say ;

A golden gilliflower to-day
So unrecorded did it slip away,

I wore upon my helm alway, So blind was I to see and to foresee,

And won the prize of this tourney. So dull to mark the budding of my tree

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.1 That would not blossom yet for many a May.

However well Sir Giles might sit, If only I could recollect it, such

His sun was weak to wither it;
A day of days! I let it come and go

Lord Miles's blood was dew on it:
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

8 If only now I could recall that touch, First touch of hand in hand–Did one but Although my spear in splinters flew,

From John's steel-coat, my eye was true; know !

I wheeled about, and cried for you,

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Many in aftertimes will say of you
*He loved her '—while of me what will they Yea, do not doubt my heart was good,

Though my sword flew like rotten wood,
Not that I loved you more than just in play, To shout, although I scarcely stood,
For fashion's sake as idle women do.

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Even let them prate; who know not what we

My hand was steady, too, to take
Of love and parting in exceeding pain,

My axe from round my neck, and break
Of parting hopeless here to meet again, John's steel-coat up for my love's sake.
Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view. Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain, When I stood in my tent again,
Love that foregoes you but to claim anew Arming afresh, I felt a pain
Beyond this passage of the gate of death, Take hold of me, I was so fain-
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée-
My love of you was life and not a breath.

To hear: Honneur aux fils des preuz!?!

Right in my ears again, and shew

The gilliflower blossomed new.
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long His tabard bore three points of flame

The Sieur Guillaume against me came,

From a red heart; with little blame3From morn to night, my friend.

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée-But is there for the night a resting-place? 1 "Hah! hah! the beautiful yellow gilliflower !"

2 "Ilonor to the sons of the brave !** A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. 3 hurt





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Crash! how the swords met; giroflée!

Sir Miles said, while the sails hung down, The fierce tune in my helm would play,

When the Sword went out to sea, La belle! la belle jaune giroflée!

“O, Ursula! while I see the town, Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

What shall I bring for thee?!!
“Dear knight, bring back a falcon brown:''

The Suord went out to sea.
Once more the great swords met again:
La belle! la belle !'' but who fell then?
Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten; But my Roland, no word he said,
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

When the Sword went out to sea,

But only turned away his head; And as with mazed and unarmed face,

A quick shriek came from me: Toward my own crown and the Queen's place,"Come back, dear lord, to your white maid!” They led me at a gentle pace,

The Sword went out to sea.

42 Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée,


The hot sun bit the garden-beds I almost saw your quiet head

When the Sword came back from sea; Bowed o'er the gilliflower bed,

Beneath an apple-tree our heads The yellow flowers stained with red,

Stretched out toward the sea; Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflie.

Gray gleamed the thirsty castle-leads,

When the Sword came back from sea. THE SAILING OF THE SWORD.

Lord Robert brought a ruby red, Across the empty garden-beds,

When the Sword came back from sea; When the Sword went out to sea,

He kissed Alicia on the head: I scarcely saw my sisters' heads

“I am come back to thee; Bowed each beside a tree.

'Tis time, sweet love, that we were wed, I could not see the castle leads,

Now the Sword is back from sea!

54 When the Sword went out to sea.



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