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The thunder bellows far from snow to snow
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
And loud and loudér roars the flood below.
Heigh-ho! but soon in shelter shall we be :
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or shall he find before his term be sped,
Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed ?
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)
For weary is work, and weary day by day
To have your comfort miles on miles away.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or may it be that I shall find my mate,
And he returning see himself too late ?
For work we must, and what we see, we see,
And God he knows, and what must be, must be,
When sweethearts wander far away from me.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The sky behind is brightening up anew
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
The rain is ending, and our journey too :
Heigh-ho ! aha ! for here at home are we :-
In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.




WHERE lies the land to which the ship would go ?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from ? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.
On sunny noons upon the deck's smooth face,
Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace ;
Or, o'er the stern reclining, watch below
The foaming wake far widening as we go.
On stormy nights when wild north-westers rave,
How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave !
The dripping sailor on the reeling mast
Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past.
Where lies the land to which the ship would go ?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from ? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

A. H. CLOUGH. 213. WHERE UPON APENNINE SLOPE WHERE, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees im.

mingle, Where amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind, Where under mulberry-branches the diligent rivulet sparkles,

Or amid cotton and maize peasants their water-works ply, Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still repeated,

Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky, Ah, that I were far away from the crowd and the streets of the city, Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee !

A. H. Clough (Amours de Voyage).

214. SHE IS NOT FAIR TO OUTWARD VIEW SHE is not fair to outward view But now her looks are coy and As many maidens be,

cold, Her loveliness I never knew

To mine they ne'er reply, Until she smiled on me.

And yet I cease not to behold 0 then I

The love-lig bright,

Her very frowns are fairer far A well of love, a spring of light. Than smiles of other maidens are.



her eye


in her eye:


WHITHER is gone the wisdom and the power
That ancient sages scattered with the notes
Of thought-suggesting lyres ? The music floats
In the void air; e'en at this breathing hour,
In every cell and every blooming bower
The sweetness of old lays is hovering still :
But the strong soul, the self-constraining will,
The rugged root which bare the winsome flower
Is weak and withered. Were we like the fays
That sweetly nestle in the fox-glove bells,
Or lurk and murmur in the rose-lipped shells
Which Neptune to the earth for quit-rent pays,
Then might our pretty modern Philomels
Sustain our spirits with their roundelays.


216. A LITTLE CHILD A LITTLE child, a limber elf, And pleasures flow in so thick and Singing, dancing to itself,

fast A fairy thing with red round Upon his heart, that he at last cheeks

Must needs express his love's That always finds, and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight With words of unmeant bitterness. As fills a father's eyes with light ; S. T. COLERIDGE (Christabel).




ALAS ! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above ;
And life is thorny ; and youth is vain:
And to be wroth with one we love,
Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain
And insult to his heart's best brother :
They parted—ne'er to meet again !
But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining-
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ;
A dreary sea now flows between.
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.

S. T. COLERIDGE (Christabel).


218. LOVE
ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights,

Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,

And feed his sacred flame.

She wept with pity and delight,

She blushed with love and virgin-shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.
Her bosom heaved-she stepped aside,

As conscious of my look she stepped-
Then suddenly, with timorous eye,

She fled to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms,

She pressed me with a meek embrace ;
And bending back her head, looked up,

And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love and partly fear,

And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.


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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !


A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drank the milk of Paradise. S. T. COLERIDGE.

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221. THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER It is an ancient mariner,

The ship was cheered, the harbour And he stoppeth one of three.

cleared, * By thy long grey beard and Merrily did we drop eye

Below the kirk, below the hill, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me ? Below the lighthouse top. 'The Bridegroom's doors

The sun came up upon the left, opened wide

Out of the sea came he ! And I am next of kin ;

And he shone bright, and on the The guests are met, the feast is


Went down into the sea. May'st hear the merry din.' He holds him with his skinny hand, Higher and higher every day,

Till over the mast at noon* There was a ship,' quoth he. * Hold off! unband me, grey

The Wedding-Guest here beat his beard loon !'


For he heard the loud bassoon. Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering

The bride hath paced into the hall, eye

Red as a rose is she ; The Wedding-Guest stood still, Nodding their heads before her And listens like a three years' goes child :

The merry minstrelsy. The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his The Wedding-Guest saton a stone: breast, He cannot choose but hear

Yet he cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient And thus spake on that ancient

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The bright-eyed Mariner.

The bright-eyed Mariner.

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