CIII.

On that last night before we went From out the doors where I was bred,

I dream'd a vision of the dead,
Which left my after-morn content.
Methought I dwelt within a hall,

And maidens with me: distant hills
From hidden summits fed with rills

A river sliding by the wall.

The hall with harp and carol rang.

They sang of what is wise and good
And graceful. In the centre stood

A statue veil'd, to which they sang ;

And which, tho' veil'd, was known to me,
The shape of him I loved, and love
For ever: then flew in a dove
And brought a summons from the sea :
And when they learnt that I must go
They wept and wail'd, but led the
way

To where a little shallop lay
At anchor in the flood below;

And on by many a level mead,

And shadowing bluff that made the banks,

We glided winding under ranks

Of iris, and the golden reed;

And still as vaster grew the shore

And roll'd the floods in grander

space,

The maidens gather'd strength and

grace

And presence, lordlier than before;

And I myself, who sat apart

And watch'd them, wax'd in every limb;

I felt the thews of Anakim,

The pulses of a Titan's heart;

CV.

To-night ungather'd let us leave
This laurel, let this holly stand :
We live within the stranger's land,
And strangely falls our Christmas eve.
Our father's dust is left alone

And silent under other snows:
There in due time the woodbine
blows,

The violet comes, but we are gone.

No more shall wayward grief abuse

The genial hour with mask and mime;

For change of place, like growth of time,

Has broke the bond of dying use.

Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.

But let no footstep beat the floor,

Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm; For who would keep an ancient form Thro' which the spirit breathes no more?

Be neither song, nor game, nor feast;

Nor harp be touch'd, nor flute be blown ;

No dance, no motion, save alone What lightens in the lucid east

Of rising worlds by yonder wood.

Long sleeps the summer in the seed; Run out your measured arcs, and lead The closing cycle rich in good.

CVI.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,

The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

CVII.

It is the day when he was born,
A bitter day that early sank
Behind a purple-frosty bank
Of vapour, leaving night forlorn.
The time admits not flowers or leaves

To deck the banquet. Fiercely flies The blast of North and East, and ice Makes daggers at the sharpen'd eaves,

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