And far as he can see on either hand
Greenwood and garden, and the wealth that They reach the baron in his carven chair,

They reach the woodman in the morning air,

All hopes and memories, all delights and The marriage-bells ring merrily; hark! they praise.

And if his heart is plumed with sudden The sun is kissing off from wood-nymphs'

Mine are the sires whom bards have sung, Swift shadows stream away, and wood-notes

If one shrewd tongue should jar and seek to | While memories of green woods and tuneful shame

streams,

The bride's new honors with her humble Lone songs and autumn sighs and April

Thou in her place wouldst merit thine own In shadows of soft melancholy flow

Long be their days, their fortunes glad and That memory, like the deep light in the

sure!

His blood is noble, and her heart is pure.

Look on her in that aspect ye may spy
Her mirrored soul where all sweet pictures

west,

Shall bathe your hearts before ye sink to

rest

Not only with the glow of good things gone, But with the faith that when your days be done

lie; Spring, summer, with their changes o'er it Another morn shall rise, but not to set, ye shall meet once more as once ye met,

flit,

And morn and eve, twin-sisters, look from it;

And

tain-streams,

Your beauty wrought to glory by the Giver, | 'Mid herbless rocks, more pure than moun-
The joy within ye perfected for ever.
Oh what rare thoughts are his! oh what
delight

To gaze upon her, hold her in his sight,
To quaff her smiles as thirsty bees that sup,
Nuzzled within a noonday lily's cup,
The last sweets, lest a drop be there in vain!
And in that rapture all remembered pain
Exhales, and for a moment he can see

A lightning-flash of what the soul shall be.

Chaster than light, warmer than imaged

beams,

More full of promise than the vernal heaven,
More peaceful than a starry summer's even,
More sweet than moss-rose odors after rain
With violets mixed, or a two-voiced strain?

"What is more welcome than the dawn of day

To lone men lost in darkness and dismay,

But she-dear heart!-her thoughts are fled To aged eyes than is the hue of wine,
To weary wanderers than the sound and

once more

shine

Of sudden waters in a desert place,
To a sad brother than a sister's face?"
Oh, love, first love, so full of hope and
truth

A guileless maiden and a gentle youth.

Through arches of wreathed rose they take
their way,

He the fresh morning, she the better May,
'Twixt jocund hearts and voices jubilant,
And unseen gods that guard on either
hand,

And blissful tears, and tender smiles that fall
On her dear head, great summer over all,
While Envy, of the triumph half afraid,
Slinks like a dazzled serpent to the shade.

VII.
Softly the loud peal dies,

In passing winds it drowns,
But breathes like perfect joys

Tender tones;

But clearer comes the wildbird's eager call,
While the robed pomp is streaming out

of sight,

And live-oh, live-in songs that shall be For her own truth, and lifts her head and

The first true hearts that made the old world They shall not change that truth by any young."

As though the long-lost Golden Age were The minstrels wait them at the palace

She turns away; her eyes are dim with tears;
Her mother's blessing lingers in her ears:
"Bless thee, my child!" The music is un-

heard;

Her heart grows strong on that remembered. word.

Again in dreams I heard the marriage-bells
Waving from far sweet welcomes and fare-

wells.

And alleluias from the deep I heard,

The naked shape of man there saw I plain,
All save the flesh, the sinew and the vein.

Lastly stood War, in glittering arms yclad,
With visage grim, stern look and blackly
hued;

In his right hand a naked sword he had
That to the hilts was all with blood
imbrued;

And in his left that kings and kingdoms
rued-

And songs of star-browed seraphim in- Famine and fire he held, and there

sphered,

That ebbed unto that sea without a shore,
Leaving vast awe and silence to adore;
But still methinks I hear the dying strain:

withal

He razèd towns, and threw down towers and all.

“The crooked straight, and the rough places Cities he sacked, and realms that whilom plain !"

FREDERICK TENNYSON.

flowered

In honor, glory and rule above the rest
He overwhelmed, and all their fame de-

voured,

Consumed, destroyed, wasted, and never

ceased

Till he their wealth, their name and all

oppressed;

His face forehewed with wounds, and by his

side

Against whose force in vain it is to fight: There hung his targe with gashes deep and