Of her still spirit; locks not wide-dispread, Revered Isabel, the crown and head, 2. The intuitive decision of a bright And thorough-edged intellect to part Error from crime; a prudence to withhold; Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, 3. The mellow'd reflex of a winter moon; The vexed eddies of its wayward brother: Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each other- (Tho' all her fairest forms are types of thee, MARIANA. "Mariana in the moated grange."- Measure for Measure. WITH blackest moss the flower-plots That held the pear to the garden-wall. The broken sheds look'd sad and strange : Unlifted was the clinking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, "My life is dreary, Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, "The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!” Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her without hope of change, In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said; I would that I were dead!" About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, And o'er it many, round and small, The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver-green with gnarled bark: She only said, "My life is dreary, And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up and away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, "The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary I would that I were dead! All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creak'd ; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, Or from the crevice peer'd about. ΤΟ Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors, She only said, "My life is dreary, The sparrow's chirrup on the roof, The poplar made, did all confound ΤΟ 1. CLEAR-HEADED friend, whose joyful scorn, Edged with sharp laughter, cuts atwain The knots that tangle human creeds, The wounding cords that bind and strain The heart until it bleeds, Ray-fringed eyelids of the morn Roof not a glance so keen as thin. 2. Low-cowering shall the Sophist sit; Falsehood shall bare her plaited brow: With shrilling shafts of subtle wit. A gentler death shall Falsehood die, 3. Weak Truth a-leaning on her crutch, Until she be an athlete bold, And weary with a finger's touch Those writhed limbs of lightning speed; Past Yabbok brook the livelong night, MADELINE 1. THOU art not steep'd in golden languors, No tranced summer calm is thine, Ever varying Madeline. Thro' light and shadow thou dost range, Sudden glances, sweet and strange, Delicious spites and darling angers, And airy forms of flitting change. 2. Smiling, frowning, evermore, Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow Thy smile and frown are not aloof From one another, Each to each is dearest brother; |