VI.

And since that must not be, she said,
I fain your bitter world would leave.
How calmly, calmly, smile the Dead,
Who do not, therefore, grieve!
The yea of Heaven is yea, she said.

VII.

But in your bitter world, she said,
Face-joy's a costly mask to wear,
'Tis bought with pangs long nourished
And rounded to despair.

Grief's earnest makes life's play, she said.

VIII.

Ye weep for those who weep? she saidAh fools! I bid you pass them by ; Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled,

What time their eyes were dry! Whom sadder can I say?-she said.

STANZAS.

I MAY sing; but minstrel's singing
Ever ceaseth with his playing.
I may smile; but time is bringing
Thoughts for smiles to wear away in
I may view thee, mutely loving;
But shall view thee so in dying!
I may sigh; but life's removing,
And with breathing endeth sighing
Be it so!
When no song of mine comes near thee,
Will its memory fail to soften?
When no smile of mine can cheer thee,
Will thy smile be used as often?
When my looks the darkness boundeth,
Will thine own be lighted after?
When my sigh no longer soundeth,
Wilt thou list another's laughter?

Be it so!

THE YOUNG QUEEN.

This awful responsibility is imposed upon me so suddenly and at so early a period of my life, that I should feel myself utterly oppressed

by the burden, were I not sustained by the hope that Divine Providence, which has called me to this work, will give me strength for the performance of it.

THE QUEEN'S DECLARATION IN COUNCIL.

THE shroud is yet unspread To wrap our crowned dead; His soul hath scarcely harkened for the thrilling word of doom;

And death that makes serene

Ev'n brows where crowns have been, Hath scarcely time to meeten his, for silence of the tomb.

St. Paul's king-dirging note The city's heart hath smoteThe city's heart is struck with thought more solemn than the tone! A shadow sweeps apace Before the Nation's face,

Confusing in a shapeless blot, the sepulchre and throne.

The palace sounds with wail-
The courtly dames are pale-
A widow o'er the purple bows, and
weeps its splendor dim:

And we who hold the boon,
A king for freedom won,

Do feel eternity rise up between our thanks and him.

And while things express
All glory's nothingness,

A royal maiden treadeth firm where that departed trod!

The deathly scented crown Weighs her shining ringlets down; But calm she lifts her trusting face, and calleth upon God.

Her thoughts are deep within her : No outward pageants win her From memories that in her soul are rolling wave on wave

Her palace walls enring The dust that was a kingAnd very cold beneath her feet, she feels her father's grave.

And One, as fair as she, Can scarce forgotten be,

Who clasped a little infant dead, for all a kingdom's worth!

The mourned, blessèd One, Who views Jehovah's throne, Aye smiling to the angels, that she lost a throne on earth.

Perhaps our youthful Queen Remembers what has beenHer childhood's rest by loving heart, and sport on grassy sod

Alas! can others wear

A mother's heart for her?

But calm she lifts her trusting face, and calleth upon God.

Yea! on God, thou maiden
Of spirit nobly laden,

And leave such happy days behind, for happy-making years!

A nation looks to thee For steadfast sympathy: Make room within thy bright clear eyes, for all its gathered tears.

And so the grateful isles

Shall give thee back their smiles, And as thy mother joys in thee, in them shalt thou rejoice;

Rejoice to meekly bow
A somewhat paler brow,

While the King of kings shall bless thee by the British people's voice!

VICTORIA'S TEARS.

Hark! the reiterated clangor sounds!
Now murmurs, like the sea or like the storm,
Or like the flames on forests, move and mount
From rank to rank, and loud and louder roll,
Till all the people is one vast applause.
LANDER'S Gebir.

"O MAIDEN! heir of kings!
A king has left his place!
The majesty of death has swept
All other from his face!

And thou upon thy mother's breast,

No longer lean adown,

God save thee, weeping Queen!
Thou shalt be well beloved!
The tyrant's sceptre cannot move,
As those pure tears have moved!
The nature in thine eyes we see,

That tyrants cannot own-
The love that guardeth liberties!
Strange blessing on the nation lies,
Whose Sovereign wept-
Yea! wept, to wear its crown!

God bless thee, weeping Queen,
With blessing more divine!

And fill with happier love than earth's,
That tender heart of thine!

That when the thrones of earth shall be
As low as graves brought down;

A pierced hand may give to thee
The crown which angels shout to see!
Thou wilt not weep,

To wear that heavenly crown!

ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S

NEST.

So the dreams depart,

So the fading phantoms flee,
And the sharp reality
Now must act its part.
WESTWOOD'S

BEADS FROM A ROSARY,'

LITTLE Ellie sits alone
Mid the beeches of a meadow,

By a stream-side on the grass; And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow, On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by; And her feet she has been dipping In the shallow water's flowNow she holds them nakedly In her hands, all sleek and dripping While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,
And the smile she softly uses,

Fills the silence like a speech;
While she thinks what shall be done,-
And the sweetest pleasure chooses,
For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile Chooseth.... I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds! He shall love me without guile; And to him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds.

'And the steed shall be red-roan And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath, And the lute he plays upon, Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure, And the mane shall swim the wind: And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

'But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face. He will say, O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in ; And I kneel here for thy grace.'

'Then, ay, then-he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him Which shall seem to understandTill I answer, Rise and go! For the world must love and fear him Whom I gift with heart and hand.'

'Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble With a yes I must not sayNathless maiden-brave, Farewell,' I will utter and dissemble'Light to-morrow with to-day.'

'Then he'll ride among the hills To the wide world past the river, There to put away all wrong: To make straight distorted wills, And to empty the broad quiver Which the wicked bear along.

'Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain And kneel down beside my feet'Lo! my master sends this gage, Lady, for thy pity's counting! What wilt thou exchange for it?'

'And the first time, I will send A white rosebud for a guerdon,And the second time a glove: But the third time-I may bend From my pride, and answer-' PardonIf he comes to take my love.'

Then the young foot-page will runThen my lover will ride faster, Till he kneeleth at my knee: 'I am a duke's eldest son! Thousand serfs do call me master,But, O Love, I love but thee!

'He will kiss me on the mouth Then; and lead me as a lover, Through the crowds that praise his deeds:

away

Thine own bright flower, the glory of plastic fire,

And gifted mortals with it,-such a sin It doth behove he expiate to the gods, Learning to accept the empery of Zeus, And leave off his old trick of loving man. Hephaestus. O Strength and Force,— for you, or Zeus's will

Presents a deed for doing.-No more! -but I,

I lack your daring, up this storm-rent chasm

To fix with violent hands a kindred god,
Howbeit necessity compels me so
That I must dare it,-and our Zeus com-
mands

With a most inevitable word. Ho, thou!
High-thoughted son of Themis who is

sage,

Thee loth, I loth must rivet fast in chains

Against this rocky height unclomb by

man,

Where never human voice nor face shall

find

Scorched in the sun's clear heat, shall fade away.

Night shall come up with garniture of

stars

To comfort thee with shadow, and the

sun

Disperse with retrickt beams the morning frosts;

And through all changes, sense of pres

ent woe

Shall vex thee sore, because with none of them

There comes a hand to free. Such fruit is plucked

From love of man!-for in that thou, a god,

Didst brave the wrath of gods and give away

Undue respect to mortals; for that crime

Thou art adjudged to guard this joyless rock,

Erect, unslumbering, bending not the knee,

And many a cry and unavailing moan
To utter on the air! For Zeus is stern,
And new-made kings are cruel.
Be it so.

Strength.

Why loiter in vain pity? Why not hate A god the gods hate?-one too who betrayed

Thy glory unto men?
Hephaestus.

An awful thing

Is kinship joined to friendship. Strength.

Grant it be;

Hephaestus.

Cursed handicraft!

beauty's flower,

Strength.

Why hate