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THALATTA.

PRELUDE.

COME o'er the green hills to the sunny sea!

The boundless sea that washeth many lands, Where shells unknown to England, fair and free,

Lie brightly scatter'd on the gleaming sands. There, 'midst the hush of slumbering ocean's roar,

We'll sit and watch the silver-tissued waves Creep languidly along the basking shore,

And kiss thy gentle feet, like Eastern slaves.

And we will take some volume of our choice,

Full of a quiet poetry of thought,
And thou shalt read me, with thy plaintive voice,

Lines which some gifted mind hath sweetly wrought; And I will listen, gazing on thy face,

(Pale as some cameo on the Italian shell!) Or looking out across the far blue space,

Where glancing sails to gentle breezes swell.

Come forth! The sun hath flung on Thetis' breast

The glittering tresses of his golden hair;
All things are heavy with a noonday rest,
And floating sea-birds leave the stirless air.

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