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With an ancient melody
Of an inward agony,
Where Claribel low-lieth.

At eve the beetle boometh

Athwart the thicket lone:
At noon the wild bee hummeth
About the mossed headstone :
At midnight the moon cometh

And looketh down alone.
Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,

The callow throstle lispeth,
The slumbrous wave outwelleth,

The babbling runnel crispeth,
The hollow grot replieth
Where Claribel low-lieth.

A DIRGE.

I.

OW is done thy long day's work; Fold thy palms across thy breast, Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest.

Let them rave.

Shadows of the silver birk

Sweep the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

II.

Thee nor carketh care nor slander;
Nothing but the small cold worm

A DIRGE.

Fretteth thine enshrouded form.
Let them rave.

Light and shadow ever wander
O'er the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

III.

Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed;
Chanteth not the brooding bee
Sweeter tones than calumny?
Let them rave.

Thou wilt never raise thine head
From the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

IV.

Crocodiles wept tears for thee;
The woodbine and eglatere
Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear.

Let them rave.

Rain makes music in the tree

O'er the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

V.

Round thee blow, self-pleached deep
Bramble-roses, faint and pale,
And long purples of the dale.

Let them rave.

These in every shower creep
Through the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

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VI.

The gold-eyed kingcups fine,
The frail bluebell peereth over
Rare broidry of the purple clover.
Let them rave.

Kings have no such couch as thine,
As the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

VII.

Wild words wander here and there;
God's great gift of speech abused
Makes thy memory confused, -
But let them rave.
The balm-cricket carols clear
In the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

MY

THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.

Y heart is wasted with my woe,
Oriana.

There is no rest for me below,

Oriana.

When the long dun wolds are ribbed with snow, And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow,

Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.

Ere the light on dark was growing,
Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing,
Oriana:

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,
Oriana.

She stood upon the castle wall,
Oriana:

She watched 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:

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