Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined; Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered, Swell high in their freckled robes behind.

A rose-flush tender, a thrill, a quiver,

When golden gleams to the tree-tops glide; A flashing edge for the milk-white river, The beck, a river-with still sleek tide.

Broad and white, and polished as silver,
On she goes under fruit-laden trees;
Sunk in leafage cooeth the culver,
And 'plaineth of love's disloyalties.

Glitters the dew and shines the river,
Up comes the lily and dries her bell;

But two are walking apart for ever,

And wave their hands for a mute farewell.

VII.

A braver swell, a swifter sliding;

The river hasteth, her banks recede :
Wing-like sails on her bosom gliding
Bear down the lily and drown the reed.

Stately prows are rising and bowing
(Shouts of mariners winnow the air),
And level sands for banks endowing

The tiny green ribbon that showed so fair.

While, O my heart! as white sails shiver,

And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide, How hard to follow, with lips that quiver,

That moving speck on the far-off side!

Farther, farther-I see it-know it--
My eyes brim over, it melts away;
Only my heart to my heart shall show it
As I walk desolate day by day.

VIII.

And yet I know past all doubting, truly-
A knowledge greater than grief can dim-
I know, as he loved, he will love me duly—
Yea, better-e'en better than I love him.

And as I walk by the vast calm river,
The awful river so dread to see,

I say, 'Thy breadth and thy depth for ever

Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.'

AN ANCIENT CHESS KING.

HAPLY Some Rajah first in ages gone
Amid his languid ladies finger'd thee,
While a black nightingale, sun-swart as he,
Sang his one wife, love's passionate orison:
Haply thou may'st have pleased old Prester John
Among his pastures, when full royally

He sat in tent-grave shepherds at his kneeWhile lamps of balsam winked and glimmered on.

What dost thou here? Thy masters are all dead;
My heart is full of ruth and yearning pain
At sight of thee, O king that hast a crown
Outlasting theirs, and tells of greatness fled
Through cloud-hung nights of unabated rain.

And murmur of the dark majestic town.

WORK.

LIKE coral insects multitudinous

The minutes are whereof our life is made.
They build it up as in the deep's blue shade
It grows; it comes to light, and then, and thus
For both there is an end. The populous

Sea-blossoms close, our minutes that have paid
Life's debt of work are spent; the work is laid
Before their feet that shall come after us.
We may not stay to watch if it will speed;
The bard if on some luter's string his song
Live sweetly yet; the hero if his star

Doth shine. Work is its own best earthly meed,
Else have we none more than the sea-born throng
Who wrought these marvellous isles that bloom afar.

THE BALLAD OF THE BRIDES OF QUAIR.

A STILLNESS crept about the house;
At evenfall, in noon-tide glare,
Upon the silent hills looked forth
The many-windowed House of Quair.

The peacock on the terrace screamed;
Browsed on the lawn the timid hare ;
The great trees grew i' the avenue,
Calm by the sheltered House of Quair.

The pool was still; around its brim

The alders sickened in the air;

There came no murmur from the streams,
Though nigh flowed Leithen, Tweed, and Quair.

The days hold on their wonted pace,

And men to court and camp repair

Their part to fill, or good or ill,

While women keep the House of Quair.

And one is clad in widow's weeds,
And one is maiden-like and fair,
And day by day they seek the paths
About the lonely fields of Quair.