And mystic force with force still caught
In the embrace that maketh one of twain ;
And all the beating, swift and slow,
Of Life's vibrations to and fro.

And still I found the downward swing,
Decay, but ere I cried, 'Lo, here!'

The upward stroke rang out glad life and breath
And still dead winters changed with spring,
And graves the new birth's cradle were;
And still I grasped the flying skirts of Death,
And still he turned, and, beaming fair,
The radiant face of Life was there.

A VISION OF WOMANHOOD.

OUT in the desert, half-submerged, a sphinx
Gazed at her awful mirrored loveliness,

In the dull deep waters sunk of Lethe, fed
By the dark river of the unknown source;
Gazed at the pure high face that answered hers,
As moon to moon, and lovely moulded curves
Of motherhood that shaped the pure white breast,
And deemed she saw herself, nor knew

That just below the shining surfaces

The woman sickened into unclean beast,

Bestial, with ravening claws and murderous strength;
And all around were strewn the bones of men,

And eyeless sockets filled with desert dust
Of those who cursed her with a dying curse.
Then a great Angel, standing in the sun,
Smote those dull Lethe-waters and they fled,
And all her hidden shame to her lay bare;
And in her agony she knew herself

To be half woman and half beast unclean,
That grew to her and made one shuddering flesh
With her, inextricably one with death.

And all her being burned as in a furnace,
And the cold stone was fused about her heart
Into warm blood and sweat of agony;
While men awe-stricken gazed upon her woe,
And every kingdom wailed because of her,
And all the land was darkened for her sake.
Then as one dead before her feet I fell,
Made one with her intolerable shame.

Æons or hours did that deep trance endure?
When the dark veil of that abysmal sleep
Was rent in twain by a loud trumpet sound,
And starting up, I saw a temple vast,
And many worshippers therein were bowed.
But on the upturned faces, I beheld
The light of a new world, and homage high,
As that a queen may render to her king,
Who owning a subjection yet remains
A majesty—such pure manhood on them lay.
And high above all worshippers enthroned,
Lo, the Egyptian woman who abode
With Death in desert places; and behold

The beast was slain, the deathful riddle solved

That slew the man; and throned upon men's hearts-
A wall of fire to guard her round about—
A perfect woman in her weakness rose,
And in her arms the future's child divine.

(The Gudewife.)

THE LAIRD'S WOOING.

"The auld Laird again !-Keep us a' !—

Whan the hoose is in sic a like steer!
An' ilka ane says it's our Jeanie

That brings him sae aften doun here.
Gudeman! ye're a fusionless crater !-
That pipe's never out o' yer mou!-
To see ye sit dosin' awa there,

A bodie wad think ye were fou!—
Fo'k needna be puir an' puirlike, man,
Ye've nae glisk o' speerit ava!
Noo; what wad ye say gin our Jeanie
Was Leddy o' Featherstane Ha'?"

(The Gudeman.)

1 Upset.

'Hoot-toot, noo, gudewife! ye're aye ettlin' 2
At gear that's ower hie for your haun'-
It's no for a lass like our Jeanie

To wed wi' the grit o' the laun'!
An' troth! we'd hae mickle to brag o'!
Ye've waled us a bonnie gudeson!
To gie our bit winsome young lassie
An auld wizened bodie like yon!
Na na! there's nae lack o' braw wooers:
There's Jamie, the flow'r o' them a'-
I'd's lief see her wife to the pleughman

As Leddy o' Featherstane Ha'!

2 You are always straining at things too high for your hand.

Jeanie, sol.)

Tho' faither an' mither may wrangle,

I'll snood up by bonnie bricht hair.
The Laird says my een are like di'monds,
An' mony a ane I micht wear!
Me to hae jewels sae costly!

Me to wear satins an' silk!

An' ne'er put a haun' to the spinnin',—
Or fash wi' the butter an' milk!
The linties1 sang loud at the dawnin'-
I heard but ae sang frae them a',
It was 'Welcome to bonnie young Jeanie,
The Leddy o' Featherstane Ha'!'

The Laird he whiles tells me o' Lun'non,
An' a' the braw sichts he has seen;
It's like to the Court he maun tak' me,
An' aiblins2 I'll crack3 wi' the Queen!
The countryside a' will be glowrin'

To see my braw carriage an' pair
Gang by wi' a dirl an' a clatter,

To stoun the guid folk at the fair!
My heid's rinnin' roun' jist wi' thinkin'!
An' yet, the bit tear-drop maun fa'
For ane I maun think on nae mair, when
I'm Leddy o' Featherstane Ha'!

I fetch'd hame the kye at the gloamin',5-
The gloamin' sae sweet an' sae free !-
An' down by the side o' the plantin'
Was somebody waitin' for me!

1 Linnet. 2 Perhaps. 3 Chat. 4 Head. 5 Twilight.