'In hope—that apprehends
An end beyond these ends;
And great uses rendered duly
By the meanest song sung truly!

'In thanks—for all the good,

By poets understood—
For the sound of seraphs moving
Down the hidden depths of loving,—

'For life, so lovely-vain,

For death which breaks the chain,— For this sense of present sweetness,— And this yearning to completeness!'

'For sights of things away. Through fissures of the clay, Promised things which shall be given And sung over, up in Heaven,—

RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.

To the belfry, one by one, went the ringers from the sun, Toll slowly.

And the oldest ringer said, 'Ours is music for the Dead,
When the Rebecks are all done.'

Six abeles i' the churchyard grow on the northside in a row, Toll slowly.

And the shadows of their tops rock across the little slopes
Of the grassy graves below.

On the south side and the west, a small river runs in haste, Toll slowly.

And between the river flowing and the fair green trees a growing
Do the dead lie at their rest.

On the east I sate that day, up against a willow gray: Toll slowly.

Through the rain of willow-branches, I could see the low hill-ranges,
And the river on its way.

There I sate beneath the tree, and the bell tolled solemnly. Toll slowly.

While the trees and river's voices flowed between the solemn noises,—
Yet death seemed more loud to me.

There, I read this ancient rbyme, while the bell did all the time Toll slowly.
And the solemn knell fell in with the tale of life and sin,

Like a rbythmic fate sublime. ,

THE RHYME.

Broad the forest stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged— Toll slowly.

And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,
Like a full heart having prayed.

And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west. Toll slowly.

And but little thought was theirs, of the silent antique years,
In the building of their nest.

Down the sun dropt large and red, on the towers of Linteged.— Toll slowly.
Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,
While the castle stood in shade.

^There, the castle stood up black, with the red sun at its hack.— Toll slowly
Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire,
When the wind is on its track.

And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall, Toll slowly.

And castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood,
And to-night was near its fall

Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,—

Toll sloivly.

One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors, * May good angels bless our home.'

• Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies,— Toll slowly.

Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,—where the untired smile of youth
Did light outward its own sighs.

'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl Toll slowly'
Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,
To his son Lord Leigh, the churl.

But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood, Toll slowly.
Unto both those Lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly,
My will runneth as my blood

'And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins,' she said,—

Toll slowly.

''Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh, But Sir Guy of Linteged.'

V The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for wilful youth.— Toll slowly. 'Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small, For so large a will, in sooth.'

>• She, too, smiled by that same sign,—but her smile was cold and fine,—

Toll slowly.

* Little hand clasps muckle gold; or it were not worth the hold Of thy son, good uncle mine!'

Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,

i yr' Toll slowly.

'He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him, and she loathed, Let the life come or the death.

Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise, Toll slowly.

'Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel,' quoth she, 'And he moans not where he lies,

'But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward !— Toll slowly.

'By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,
I deny you wife and ward.'