"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, Sweet, in change for life,

But I ride alone to God."

Straight as if the holy name had upbreathed her like a

She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sat in sight,

By her love she overcame.

And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one

Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle

But the passing-bell rings best!"

They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose-in vain,

Toll slowly.

For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised

in air,

On the last verge rears amain.

Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in,

Toll slowly.

Now he shivers head and hoof, and the flakes of foam

fall off,

And his face grows fierce and thin:

And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go,

Toll slowly.

And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony

Of the headlong death below,

E

And, "Ring, ring, thou passing bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle ! "

Toll slowly.

Then back-toppling, crashing back-a dead weight flung out to wrack,

Horse and riders overfell.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang

And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime

Slowly tolled for one at rest.

The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did

And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and

its change,

Here, where all done lay undone.

And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see,

Toll slowly.

Where was graved,—HERE, UNDEFILED, LIETH MAUD, A THREE-YEAR CHILD,

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED, FORTY-THREE.

Then, O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day, Toll slowly.

Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings

Keep beside you all the way?

Though in passion ye would dash with a blind and heavy

crash,

Toll slowly.

Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field,—

Though your heart and brain were rash,—

Now, your will is all unwilled, now, your pulses are all stilled,

Toll slowly.

Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child,

Whose small grave was lately filled.

Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now, Toll slowly.

And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould

Ere a month had let them grow.

And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in

Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out

on it,

Murmuring not at anything.

In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not

When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel, Time will seem to you not long.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang

And I said in underbreath,—All our life is mixed with

death,

And who knoweth which is best?

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,

Round our restlessness, His rest.

BERTHA IN THE LANE.

PUT the broidery-frame away,
For my sewing is all done :
The last thread is used to-day,
And I need not join it on.
Though the clock stands at the noon
I am weary. I have sewn,
Sweet, for thee, a wedding gown.

Sister, help me to the bed,

And stand near me, Dearest-sweet.
Do not shrink nor be afraid,
Blushing with a sudden heat!
No one standeth in the street?-
By God's love I go to meet,
Love I thee with love complete.

Lean thy face down; drop it in

These two hands, that I may hold
'Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin,
Stroking back the curls of gold:
'Tis a fair, fair face, in sooth-
Larger eyes and redder mouth

Than mine were in my first youth.

Thou art younger by seven years:
Ah!-so bashful at my gaze,
That the lashes, hung with tears,
Grow too heavy to upraise?
I would wound thee by no touch
Which thy shyness feels as such.
Dost thou mind me, Dear, so much?

“

Have I not been nigh a mother

To thy sweetness-tell me, Dear?
Have we not loved one another
Tenderly, from year to year,
Since our dying mother mild
Said with accents undefiled,

Child, be mother to this child"?

Mother, mother, up in heaven,

Stand up on the jasper sea,

And be witness I have given
All the gifts required of me,-

Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned,

Love that left me with a wound,

Life itself that turneth round!

Mother, mother, thou art kind,
Thou art standing in the room,
In a molten glory shrined

That rays off into the gloom!
But thy smile is bright and bleak
Like cold waves-I cannot speak,
I sob in it, and grow weak.

Ghostly mother, keep aloof

One hour longer from my soul,

For I still am thinking of

Earth's warm-beating joy and dole !