IX.

A simpler, saner lesson might he learn
Who reads thy gradual process, Holy Spring.
Thy leaves possess the season in their turn,

And in their time thy warblers rise on wing.
How surely glidest thou from March to May,
And changest, breathing it, the sullen wind,
Thy scope of operation, day by day,

Larger and fuller, like the human mind! Thy warmths from bud to bud

Accomplish that blind model in the seed,

And men have hopes, which race the restless blood
That after many changes may succeed
Life, which is Life indeed.

MERLIN AND THE GLEAM.

I.

O YOUNG Mariner,
You from the haven
Under the sea-cliff,
You that are watching
The gray Magician
With eyes of wonder,
I am Merlin,

And I am dying,

I am Merlin

Who follow The Gleam.

II.

Mighty the Wizard

Who found me at sunrise

Sleeping, and woke me
And learn'd me Magic!

Great the Master,
And sweet the Magic,
When over the valley,
In early summers,
Over the mountain,
On human faces,
And all around me,
Moving to melody,
Floated The Gleam.

III.

Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it,

A barbarous people,

Blind to the magic,

And deaf to the melody,

Snarl'd at and cursed me.

A demon vext me,

The light retreated,
The landskip darken'd,

The melody deaden'd,

The Master whisper'd

"Follow The Gleam,"

IV.

Then to the melody,
Over a wilderness
Gliding, and glancing at
Elf of the woodland,
Gnome of the cavern,

Griffin and Giant,

And dancing of fairies

In desolate hollows,

And wraiths of the mountain,

And rolling of dragons

By warble of water,
Or cataract music
Of falling torrents,
Flitted The Gleam.

V.

Down from the mountain

And over the level,

And streaming and shining on

Silent river,

Silvery willow,

Pasture and ploughland,

Innocent maidens,

Garrulous children,

Homestead and harvest,

Reaper and gleaner,
And rough-ruddy faces
Of lowly labour,

Slided The Gleam

VI.

Then, with a melody
Stronger and statelier,
Led me at length
To the city and palace
Of Arthur the king;
Touch'd at the golden
Cross of the churches,
Flash'd on the Tournament,
Flicker'd and bicker'd
From helmet to helmet,
And last on the forehead
Of Arthur the blameless
Rested The Gleam.

VII.

Clouds and darkness
Closed upon Camelot;
Arthur had vanish'd
I knew not whither,
The king who loved me,
And cannot die;

For out of the darkness

Silent and slowly

The Gleam, that had waned to a wintry glimmer

On icy fallow

And faded forest,

Drew to the valley

Named of the shadow,

And slowly brightening

Out of the glimmer,

And slowly moving again to a melody

Yearningly tender,

Fell on the shadow,

No longer a shadow,

But clothed with The Gleam.

VIII.

And broader and brighter

The Gleam flying onward,

Wed to the melody,
Sang thro' the world;
And slower and fainter,

Old and weary,

But eager to follow,
I saw, whenever

In passing it glanced upon
Hamlet or city,

That under the Crosses
The dead man's garden,
The mortal hillock,

Would break into blossom;

And so to the land's

Last limit I came

And can no longer,
But die rejoicing,
For thro' the Magic
Of Him the Mighty,

Who taught me in childhood,
There on the border

Of boundless Ocean,

And all but in Heaven
Hovers The Gleam.

WHAT be those crown'd forms high over the sacred fountain? Bards, that the mighty Muses have raised to the heights of the

mountain,

And over the flight of the Ages! O Goddesses, help me up thither!

Lightning may shrivel the laurel of Cæsar, but mine would not wither.

Steep is the mountain, but you, you will help me to overcome it, And stand with my head in the zenith, and roll my voice from the summit,

Sounding for ever and ever thro' Earth and her listening nations,

And mixt with the great Sphere-music of stars and of constellations.

II.

What be those two shapes high over the sacred fountain, Taller than all the Muses, and huger than all the mountain? On those two known peaks they stand ever spreading and heightening;

Poet, that evergreen laurel is blasted by more than lightning! Look, in their deep double shadow the crown'd ones all disappearing!

Sing like a bird and be happy, nor hope for a deathless hearing! Sounding for ever and ever?" pass on! the sight confusesThese are Astronomy and Geology, terrible Muses!

III.

If the lips were touch'd with fire from off a pure Pierian altar, Tho' their music here be mortal need the singer greatly care? Other songs for other worlds! the fire within him would not falter;

Let the golden Iliad vanish, Homer here is Homer there.

FAR-FAR-AWAY.

(FOR MUSIC.)

WHAT sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew
As where earth's green stole into heaven's own hue,
Far-far--away?

What sound was dearest in his native dells?
The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells

Far-far-away.

What vague world-whisper, mystic pain or joy,

Thro' those three words would haunt him when a boy,

Far-far-away?