The horrid thing pursues my soul, It stands before me now!" The fearful boy looked up, and saw That very night, while gentle Sleep LADY BARBARA. BY ALEXANDER SMITH. ARL GAWAIN wooed the Lady Barbara, 'Mong broad-branched beeches in the summer In soft green light his passion he has told. Silent she sat his amorous breath to hear, He sighed for her through all the summer weeks; Out with our falcons to the pleasant heath.” Trembled, and passed before her high rebuke; And then she sat, her hands clasped round her knce; Like one far-thoughted was the lady's look, For in a morning cold as misery She saw a lone ship sailing on the sea; High on the poop a man sat mournfully : The wind was whistling thorough mast and shroud, And to the whistling wind thus did he sing aloud: "Didst look last night upon my native vales, Thou Sun, that from the drenching sea hast clomb? Ye demon winds, that glut my gaping sails, Upon the salt sea must I ever roam, Wander forever on the barren foam? O Death, that thou wouldst come and take me home! A hand unseen this vessel onward steers, And onward I must float through slow moon-measured years. "Ye winds! when like a curse ye drove us on, Nor cape, nor headland, through red mornings shone, As we went driving on through the cold starry night. VOL XIII. 5 G "Madness fell on me in my loneliness, A shoal of fiends came on me from the deep, And dragged me forth, and round did dance and leap; They mouthed on me in dream, and tore me from sweet sleep. Strange constellations burned above my head, Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and flew, My own Sir Arthur, could I die with you! The wind blows shrill between my love and me." Fond heart! the space between was but the apple-tree. There was a cry of joy; with seeking hands With a wan smile, "Methinks I'm but half blest; sལ། | THE SENSITIVE PLANT. I. SENSITIVE Plant in a garden grew, And the Spring arose on the garden fair, And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast But none ever trembled and panted with bliss, In the garden, the field, or the wilderness, Like a doe in the noontide with love's sweet want, The snowdrop, and then the violet, Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, And their breath was mixed with fresh odor, sent From the turf, like the voice and the 09943 A |