I

AH me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth;

But either it was different in blood,

Or else misgraffèd in respect of years,

Or else it stood upon the choice of friends :
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say
"Behold!"

The jaws of darkness do devour it up :

So quick bright things come to confusion.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

II

HELEN OF KIRCONNELL

I WISH I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms Burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!

O think na ye my heart was sair,

When my love dropt down and spak' nae mair! There did she swoon wi' meikle care,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea,

I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',

I hacked him in pieces sma',

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare !
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of nry bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste, and come to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
For her sake that died for me.

UNKNOWN.

III

DEPARTURE

It was not like your great and gracious ways Do you, that have nought other to lament, Never, my Love, repent

Of how, that July afternoon,

You went,

With sudden, unintelligible phrase,
And frighten'd eye,

Upon your journey of so many days,

Without a single kiss, or a good-bye?

I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon;
And so we sate, within the low sun's rays,

You whispering to me, for your voice was weak,
Your harrowing praise.

Well, it was well,

To hear you such things speak,

And I could tell

What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove. And it was like your great and gracious ways

To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear,
Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash

To let the laughter flash,

Whilst I drew near,

Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear.

But all at once to leave me at the last,

More at the wonder than the loss aghast,

With huddled, unintelligible phrase,

And frighten'd eye,

And go your journey of all days

With not one kiss, or a good-bye,

And the only loveless look the look with which you

passed:

'Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

IV

SONG OF QUEEN MARY

HAPLESS doom of woman happy in betrothing!
Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathing:
Low, my lute; speak low, my lute, but say the world is
nothing-

Low, lute, low !

Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken;
Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken;
Low, my lute! oh low, my lute! we fade and are for-

saken

Low, dear lute, low!

ALFRED LORD TENNYSON.