"I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful-a faëry's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

“I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone ;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

"I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long; For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faëry's song.

"She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew; And sure in language strange she said'I love thee true!'

"She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

"And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dream'd-ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill's side.

"I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried-La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

"I saw their starved lips in the gloom,
With horrid warning, gaped wide;
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

"And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering;

Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing."

KEATS.

K

A Buined Chapel by the Shore.
By the shore, a plot of ground
Clips a ruin'd chapel round,
Buttress'd with a grassy mound;

Where Day and Night and Day go by,
And bring no touch of human sound.
Washing of the lonely seas,
Shaking of the guardian trees,
Piping of the salted breeze;

Day and Night and Day go by

To the endless tune of these.

Or when, as winds and waters keep
A hush more dead than any sleep,
Still morns to stiller evenings creep,
And Day and Night and Day go by ;
Here the silence is most deep.
The chapel-ruins, lapsed again
Into Nature's wide domain,
Sow themselves with seed and grain

As Day and Night and Day go by;
And hoard June's sun and April's rain.
Here fresh funeral tears were shed;
And now, the graves are also dead;
And suckers from the ash-tree spread,
While Day and Night and Day go by;
And stars move calmly overhead.

ALLINGHAM.

Kubla Khan; or, A Vision in a Dream.

A FRAGMENT.

IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea.

So! twice five miles of fertile ground,

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree ;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm, which slanted
Down the green hill, athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman, wailing for her spirit-lover;

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half intermitted burst
Huge fragments, vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever,
It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering, with a mazy motion,
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far,
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure,
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure,
From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer,

In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she play'd,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That, with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice !

And all who heard, should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

COLERIDGE.

The Awakened Conscience.

CHEER'D by this hope she bends her thither;-
Still laughs the radiant eye of heaven,
Nor have the golden bowers of even
In the rich West begun to wither;-
When, o'er the vale of BALBEC winging
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild-flowers singing,
As rosy and as wild as they ;
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
The beautiful blue damsel-flies,*
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems
Like winged flowers or flying gems :—
And, near the boy when tired with play
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,

She saw a wearied man dismount

From his hot steed, and on the brink
Of a small imaret's rustic fount +
Impatient fling him down to drink.
Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd
To the fair child who fearless sat,
Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd
Upon a brow more fierce than that,—
Sullenly fierce-a mixture dire,
Like thunder clouds of gloom and fire;
In which the PERI's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed;
The ruin'd maid—the shrine profaned-
Oaths broken-and the threshold stain'd
With blood of guests! there written, all
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing angel's pen,
Ere mercy wipes them out again.
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
(As if the balmy evening time
Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play

Though still, whene'er his eye by chance

Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance

days.

A beautiful insect so named.

† A place where lodging and food is furnished gratis to pilgrims for three

Met that unclouded joyous gaze,

As torches that have burnt all night
Through some impure and godless rite,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.

But, hark! the vesper calls to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air

From SYRIA's thousand minarets! *
The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
And down upon the fragrant sod
Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
Lisping the eternal name of God

From Purity's own cherub mouth,
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are lifted to the glowing skies,

Like a stray babe of Paradise

Just lighted on that flow'ry plain,

And seeking for its home again.

Oh! 'twas a sight-that heaven-that child

A scene, which might have well beguiled
Ev'n haughty Eblis of a sigh

For glories lost and peace gone by!
And how felt he, the wretched man
Reclining there while memory ran
O'er many a year of guilt and strife,
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,
Nor found one sunny resting-place,
Nor brought him back one branch of grace.
"There was a time," he said in mild,
Heart-humbled tones-"thou blessed child!
"When, young and happy, pure as thou,
"I look'd and pray'd like thee-but now-
He hung his head-each nobler aim,
And hope, and feeling, which had slept

*Such Turks as at the common hour of prayer are on the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty; nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business they are then about, but pray immediately when the hour alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a jannissary, whom you have to guard you up and down the city, hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell his charge he must have patience for awhile; when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in the open market, which, having ended, he leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, and renews his journey with the mild expression of Ghell gohnnum ghell; or, Come, dear, follow me."-AARON HILL'S Travels.