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Merrily swim we, the moon shines

Sain ye, and save ye, and blithe mot

bright,

ye be,

There's a golden gleam on the distant Forseldom they land that go swimming

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He has lighted his candle of death and What, ho! Sub-Prior, and came you

of dool:

but here

Look, Father, look, and you'll laugh | Toconjure a book from a dead woman's

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THE WHITE LADY sings or speaks :YOUTH of the dark eye, wherefore didst thou call me?

Wherefore art thou here, if terrors can appal thee?

He that seeks to deal with us must know no fear nor failing; To coward and churl our speech is dark, our gifts are unavailing. The breeze that brought me hither now must sweep Egyptian ground, The fleecy cloud on which I ride for Araby is bound;

The fleecy cloud is drifting by, the breeze sighs for my stay,

For those be before thee that wish For I must sail a thousand miles before

thee ill.

Chap. XI.

THE WHITE LADY sings :—
THANK the holly-bush
That nods on thy brow;
Or with this slender rush
I had strangled thee now.
Chap. x.

TO THE WHITE LADY.

HALBERT invokes :

THRICE to the holly brake,
Thrice to the well-

I bid thee awake,

White Maid of Avenel!

Noon gleams on the lake, Noon glows on the fell,Wake thee, O wake,

White Maid of Avenel.

Chap. XI.

1 Sackless-Innocent.

the close of day.

WHAT I am I must not show-
What I am thou couldst not know-
Something betwixt heaven and hell-
Something that neither stood nor fell-
Something that through thy wit or will
May work thee good-may work
thee ill.

Neither substance quite, nor shadow,
Haunting lonely moor and meadow,
Dancing by the haunted spring,
Riding on the whirlwind's wing;
Aping in fantastic fashion

Every change of human passion,
While o'er our frozen minds they pass
Like shadows from the mirror'd glass.
Wayward, fickle, is our mood,
Hovering betwixt bad and good,
Happier than brief-dated man,
Living twenty times his span;
Far less happy, for we have
Help nor hope beyond the grave!
Man awakes to joy or sorrow;
Ours the sleep that knows no morrow.

This is all that I can show

This is all that thou may'st know.

AY! and I taught thee the word and Lend thy hand, and thou shalt spy

the spell,

To waken me here by the Fairies'

Well :

But thou hast loved the heron and

hawk,

More than to seek my haunted walk; And thou hast loved the lance and the sword,

More than good text and holy word; And thou hast loved the deer to track, More than the lines and the letters black;

And thou art a ranger of moss and of wood,

Things ne'er seen by mortal eye.

FEAR'ST thou to go with me?
Still it is free to thee

A peasant to dwell;
Thou may'st drive the dull steer,
And chase the king's deer,
But never more come near
This haunted well.

HERE lies the volume thou boldly hast sought;

And scornest the nurture of gentle Touch it, and take it,-'twill dearly be

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THY Craven fear my truth accused;
Thine idlehood my trust abused;
He that draws to harbour late,

Must sleep without, or burst the gate.
There is a star for thee which burn'd,
Its influence wanes, its course is turn'd;
Valour and constancy alone

RASH thy deed,

Mortal weed

To immortal flames applying; Rasher trust

Has thing of dust,

On his own weak worth relying: Strip thee of such fences vain, Can bring thee back the chance that's Strip, and prove thy luck again.

flown.

WITHIN that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way;
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.

MANY a fathom dark and deep
I have laid the book to sleep;
Ethereal fires around it glowing-
Ethereal music ever flowing...
The sacred pledge of Heav'n
All things revere,

Each in his sphere,
Save man for whom 'twas giv'n :

MORTAL warp and mortal woof
Cannot brook this charmed roof;
All that mortal art hath wrought
In our cell returns to nought.
The molten gold returns to clay,
The polish'd diamond melts away;
All is altered, all is flown,

Nought stands fast but truth alone.
Not for that thy quest give o'er:
Courage! prove thy chance once more.

ALAS! alas!

Not ours the grace

These holy characters to trace:
Idle forms of painted air.

Not to us is given to share

The boon bestow'd on Adam's race.

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And this bright font received it-and COMPLAIN not on me, child of clay,
a Spirit
If to thy harm I yield the way.
Rose from the fountain, and her date | We, who soar thy sphere above,
Know not aught of hate or love;

of life Hath co-existence with the House of As will or wisdom rules thy mood,

Avenel,

And with the star that rules it.

My gifts to evil turn or good.

WHEN Piercie Shafton boasteth high,

Look on my girdle-on this thread of Let this token meet his eye.

gold-

'Tis fine as web of lightest gossamer, And, but there is a spell on 't, would

not bind,

Light as they are, the folds of my thin robe.

But when 'twas donn'd, it was a

The sun is westering from the dell,
Thy wish is granted-fare thee well!
Chap. XVII.

SIR PIERCIE SHAFTON sings :-WHAT tongue can her perfections tell, Such as might bind the champion of On whose each part all pens may

massive chain,

the Jews,

Even when his locks were longest:

it hath dwindled,

Hath 'minish'd in its substance and its strength,

As sunk the greatness of the House

of Avenel.

When this frail thread gives way, I to the elements

Resign the principles of life they lent

me.

Ask me no more of this!-the stars forbid it.

DIM burns the once bright star of
Avenel,

Dim as the beacon when the morn is
nigh,

And the o'er-wearied warder leaves the light-house;

There is an influence sorrowful and
fearful,

That dogs its downward course.
Disastrous passion,

Fierce hate and rivalry, are in the
aspect

That lowers upon its fortunes.

dwell.

(ETCETERA, to the extent of about five hundred verses, ending thus:-)

Of whose high praise and praiseful
bliss,

Goodness the pen, Heaven paper is ;
The ink immortal fame doth send:
As I began so I must end.

THE WHITE LADY chants or recites :—
HE whose heart for vengeance sued
Must not shrink from shedding blood;
The knot that thou hast tied with
word,

Thou must loose by edge of sword.

You have summon'd me once, you
have summon'd me twice,
And without e'er a summons I come
to you thrice;

Unask'd for, unsued for, you come to
my glen;

Unsued and unask'd, I am with you

agen.

Chap. xx.

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