As when they followed us from Philip's door, Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone, Of Brunelleschi ; sleeps in peace and he, So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a style In the long hedge, and rolling in his mind Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook Mused, and was mute. On a sudden a low breath The fragile bindweed-bells and briony rings; And he looked up. Waiting to pass. There stood a maiden near, In much amaze he stared. On eyes a bashful azure, and on hair In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell Then, wondering, asked her 'Are you from the farm?' name.' 'Indeed!' and here he looked so self-perplext, 'Have you not heard?' said Katie, 'we came back. We bought the farm we tenanted before. Am I so like her? so they said on board. Sir, if you knew her in her English days, My mother, as it seems you did, the days A. Tennyson. CXXVI. THE SOUTH-SEA ISLES. H_many are the beauteous isles That, sleeping 'mid the Ocean-smiles, In happy silence lie. The Ship may pass them in the night, Nor the sailors know what a lovely sight Is resting on the Main; Some wandering Ship who hath lost her way, Shall pass these isles again. There groves, that bloom in endless spring, The sun and clouds alone possess The joy of all that loveliness; And sweetly to each other smile The live-long day-sun, cloud and isle. How silent lies each sheltered bay! No other visitors have they To their shores of silvery sand, Than the waves that, murmuring in their glee, All hurrying in a joyful band Come dancing from the sea. J. Wilson. CXXVII. A SERENADE. ULLABY, oh, lullaby!' 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! The brat will never shut an eye; Hither come, some power divine! Close his lids, or open mine!' 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby! What on earth can make him cry? Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Still he stares-I wonder why, Why are not the sons of earth Blind, like puppies, from the birth?' 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby!' Thus I heard the father cry; 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Mary, you must come and try!— Hush, oh, hush, for mercy's sakeThe more I sing, the more you wake!' ‘Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! Fie, you little creature, fie! Is no poppy-syrup nigh? Give him some, or give him all, 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Two such nights, and I shall die! Lullaby, oh, lullaby! He'll be bruised, and so shall I,— How can I from bedposts keep, 'Lullaby, oh, lullaby : Sleep his very looks deny— Lullaby, oh, lullaby; Nature soon will stupify My nerves relax,-my eyes grow dim- T. Hood. CXXVIII. THE CUMBERLAND. T anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, On board of the Cumberland, sloop-of-war ; And at times from the fortress across the bay The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the south uprose A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes To try the force Of our ribs of oak. Down upon us heavily runs, Silent and sullen, the floating fort; Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, With fiery breath, From each open port. We are not idle, but send her straight From each iron scale Of the monster's hide. |