GENEVIEVE.

ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights,

Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay Beside the ruined tower.

The moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy,

My own dear Genevieve!

She leaned against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my lay,

Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best whene'er I sing

The songs that make her grieve.

I played a soft and doleful air,

I an old and moving story, sang An old rude song, that suited well

That ruin wild and hoary.

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love
Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
And she forgave me that I gazed

Too fondly on her face.

But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once

In green and sunny glade,

There came and looked him in the face

An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight!

And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land;

And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain ;
And ever strove to expiate

The scorn that crazed his brain ;
And that she nursed him in a cave,
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay ;

His dying words-but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherished long.

She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin shame ;
And like the murmur of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved, she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stept,
Then suddenly, with timorous eye

She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms, She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face.

'T was partly love, and partly fear, And partly 't was a bashful art That I might rather feel than see

The swelling of her heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,

My bright and beauteous Bride.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME.

COME, all ye jolly shepherds

That whistle through the glen,

I'll tell ye of a secret

That courtiers dinna ken :

What is the greatest bliss

That the tongue o' man can name?

"T is to woo a bonny lassie

When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
When the kye comes hame!

"T is not beneath the coronet,
Nor canopy of state,
"T is not on couch of velvet,

Nor arbor of the great,
"Tis beneath the spreading birk,
In the glen without the name,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,

When the kye comes hame!

When the kye comes hame, etc.

There the blackbird bigs his nest
For the mate he loes to see,
And on the topmost bough,
O, a happy bird is he;
Where he pours his melting ditty,

And love is a' the theme,
And he'll woo his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the blewart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonny lucken gowan
Has fauldit up her ee,

Then the laverock frae the blue lift
Doops down, an' thinks nae shame
To woo his bonny lassie

When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

See yonder pawkie shepherd,
That lingers on the hill,
His ewes are in the fauld,

An' his lambs are lying still;
Yet he downa gang to bed,

For his heart is in a flame,

To meet his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the little wee bit heart
Rises high in the breast,
An' the little wee bit starn
Rises red in the east,

home!

A hand unseen this vessel onward steers,

And onward I must float through slow, moonmeasured years.

"Ye winds! when like a curse ye drove us on,
Frothing the waters, and along our way,
Nor cape nor headland through red mornings
shone,

One wept aloud, one shuddered down to pray,
One howled, Upon the deep we are astray.'
On our wild hearts his words fell like a blight:
In one short hour my hair was stricken gray,
For all the crew sank ghastly in my sight
As we went driving on through the cold starry
night.

"Madness fell on me in my loneliness,

The sea foamed curses, and the reeling sky
Became a dreadful face which did oppress
Me with the weight of its unwinking eye.
It fled, when I burst forth into a cry,

A shoal of fiends came on me from the deep;

I hid, but in all corners they did pry,

Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair
A golden circlet of renown he wore,
And in his hand an olive garland bore.

But on this day with whom shall he contend?
A maid stood by him like Diana clad
When in the woods she lists her bow to bend,
Too fair for one to look on and be glad,
Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had,
If he must still behold her from afar;
Too fair to let the world live free from war.

She seemed all earthly matters to forget; Of all tormenting lines her face was clear, Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near; But her foe trembled as a man in fear, Nor from her loveliness one moment turned His anxious face with fierce desire that burned.

But silent did the thronging folk abide

from sweet sleep.

"Strange constellations burned above my head, Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and flew, Strange shapes, like shadows, through the clear sea fled,

through,

And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal.

But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard His flushed and eager face he turned around, And even then he felt her past him bound Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair.

There stood she breathing like a little child Amid some warlike clamor laid asleep, For no victorious joy her red lips smiled, Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep; No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and deep, Though some divine thought softened all her face As once more rang the trumpet through the place.

After the prize that should her bliss fulfil, That in her hand it lay ere it was still.

--

Nor did she rest, but turned about to win Once more, an unblest, woful victoryAnd yet and yet why does her breath begin To fail her, and her feet drag heavily? Why fails she now to see if far or nigh

"It wearies me, mine enemy, that I must weep and bear

What fills thy heart with triumph, and fills my own with care.

Thou art leagued with those that hate me, and ah! thou know'st I feel

That cruel words as surely kill as sharpest blades of steel.

my heart with pain ;

But, now I know thy perfidy, I shall be well again.

I would proclaim thee as thou art,

maiden knows

but every

"T IS sweet to hear, At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep, song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellowed, o'er the waters sweep; 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear;

'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home;

thine arrows go;

who knows

Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum

he goes.