MADRIGAL.

TAKE, O take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;
But my kisses bring again,

Bring again,

Seals of love, but sealed in vain,
Sealed in vain !

William Shakspeare.

THE WANDERER.

(Rondel.)

LOVE comes back to his vacant dwelling,

The old, old Love that we knew of yore!

We see him stand by the open door,

With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling.

He makes as though, in our arms repelling,

He fain would lie as he lay before; Love comes back to his vacant dwelling,

The old, old Love that we knew of yore!

You'll Love Me Yet.

Ah, who shall help us from over-spelling
That sweet, forgotten, forbidden lore!
E'en as we doubt in our heart once more,
With a rush of tears to our eyelids welling,
Love comes back to his vacant dwelling.

69

Austin Dobson.

γου

YOU'LL LOVE ME YET.

YOU'LL love me yet! — and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing!

June reared that bunch of flowers you carry
From seeds of April's sowing.

I plant a heartful now! some seed
At least is sure to strike,

And yield what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.

You'll look at least on love's remains,

A grave's one violet;

ONE WAY OF LOVE.

ALL June I bound the rose in sheaves;

Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves,
And strew them where Pauline may pass.
She will not turn aside? Alas!

Let them lie! Suppose they die?
The chance was they might take her eye.

How many a month I strove to suit
These stubborn fingers to the lute!
To-day I venture all I know.

She will not hear my music? So!
Break the string fold music's wing.

Suppose Pauline had bade me sing!

My whole life long I learned to love.
This hour my utmost art I prove,

And speak my passion,

heaven or hell?

She will not give me heaven? 'Tis well!

Lose who may - I still can say,

Those who win heaven, blest are they.

Robert Browning.

Through the Long Days and Years.

71

THROUGH THE LONG DAYS AND YEARS.

THROUGH the long days and years

What will my loved one be,
Parted from me,

Through the long days and years?

Always as then she was,

Loveliest, brightest, best,

Blessing and blest,

Always as then she was.

Never on earth again

Shall I before her stand,

Touch lip or hand,

Never on earth again.

But while my darling lives

Peaceful I journey on,
Not quite alone,

Not while my darling lives.

John Hay.

BALLAD OF THE BRIDES OF QUAIR.

A

STILLNESS crept about the house,

At even-fall, in noontide glare;
Upon the silent hills looked forth
The many-windowed House of Quair.

The peacock on the terrace screamed;
Browsed on the lawn the timid hare;
The great trees grew in the avenue,

Calm by the sheltered House of Quair.

The pool was still; around its brim
The alders sickened all the air;

There came no murmur from the streams,
Though nigh flowed Leither, Tweed, and Quair.

The days hold on their wonted pace,
And men to court and camp repair,

Their part to fill, of good or ill,

While women keep the House of Quair.

And one is clad in widow's weeds,

And one is maiden-like and fair,