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LOVE AND DEATH-THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.

17

LOVE AND DEATH.

WHAT time the mighty moon was gathering light

Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise, And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes; When, turning round a cassia, full in view, Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, And talking to himself, first met his sight : 'You must begone,' said Death, these walks are mine.'

Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted said, 'This hour is thine :

Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree

Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,

So in the light of great eternity

Life eminent creates the shade of death;

The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,

But I shall reign for ever over all.'

THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.

My heart is wasted with my woe, Oriana.

There is no rest for me below,

Oriana.

When the long dun wolds are ribb'd with

snow,

And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow, Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

Ere the light on dark was growing, Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing, Oriana : 46

Winds were blowing, waters flowing,
We heard the steeds to battle going,
Oriana;

Aloud the hollow bugle blowing,
Oriana.

In the yew-wood black as night, Oriana,

Ere I rode into the fight,

Oriana,

While blissful tears blinded my sight
By star-shine and by moonlight,
Oriana,

I to thee my troth did plight,
Orian

She stood upon the castle wall,
Oriana :

She watch'd my crest among them all,
Oriana :

She saw me fight, she heard me call,
When forth there stept a foeman tall,
Oriana,

Atween me and the castle wall,
Oriana.

The bitter arrow went aside,

Oriana:

The false, false arrow went aside,
Oriana :

The damned arrow glanced aside,
And pierced thy heart, my love, my bride,
Oriana!

Thy heart, my life, my love, my bride,
Oriana !

Oh! narrow, narrow was the space,

Oriana.

Loud, loud rung out the bugle's brays, Oriana.

Oh! deathful stabs were dealt apace,
The battle deepen'd in its place,
Oriana ;

But I was down upon my face,
Oriana.

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We would run to and fro, and hide and

seek,

On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson

shells,

Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call, and shriek,

And adown the steep like a wave I would leap

From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells;

For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list,

Of the bold merry mermen under the

sea;

They would sue me, and woo me, and

flatter me,

In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry

me,

Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea;
Then all the dry pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned,
and soft

Would lean out from the hollow sphere of

the sea,

All looking down for the love of me.

ADELINE.

I.

MYSTERY of mysteries,

Faintly smiling Adeline,
Scarce of earth nor all divine,

Nor unhappy, nor at rest,

But beyond expression fair
With thy floating flaxen hair;

Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes
Take the heart from out my breast.
Wherefore those dim looks of thine,
Shadowy, dreaming Adeline?

II.

Whence that aery bloom of thine,
Like a lily which the sun

Looks thro' in his sad decline,
And a rose-bush leans upon,
Thou that faintly smilest still,
As a Naiad in a well,
Looking at the set of day,
Or a phantom two hours old

Of a maiden past away,

Ere the placid lips be cold? Wherefore those faint smiles of thine, Spiritual Adeline?

III.

What hope or fear or joy is thine?
Who talketh with thee, Adeline?
For sure thou art not all alone.

Do beating hearts of salient springs
Keep measure with thine own?

Hast thou heard the butterflies What they say betwixt their wings?

Or in stillest evenings

With what voice the violet woos

To his heart the silver dews?

Or when little airs arise,
How the merry bluebell rings

To the mosses underneath?

Hast thou look'd upon the breath

Of the lilies at sunrise?

Wherefore that faint smile of thine,

Shadowy, dreaming Adeline?

IV.

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind,
Some spirit of a crimson rose
In love with thee forgets to close

His curtains, wasting odorous sighs

All night long on darkness blind.

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