The violets of five seasons reappear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on

For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,

And-with my cheek on one of those green stones That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees,

Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep-
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,

The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,

And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash

And merciless ravage; and the shady nook

Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up

Their quiet being and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past,
Even then, when from the bower I turned away
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees and the intruding sky.

Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
Touch-for there is a spirit in the woods.

A PORTRAIT.

SHE was a Phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight

A lovely Apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon nearer view,

A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions, light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;

A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller betwixt life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel-light.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.

WHEN the Brothers reached the gateway,
Eustace pointed with his lance

To the Horn which there was hanging;
Horn of the Inheritance.

Horn it was which none could sound,

No one upon living ground,

Save He who came as rightful Heir

To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

Heirs from ages without record

Had the House of Lucie born,

Who of right had claimed the Lordship

By the proof upon the Horn :

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn,-it owned his power;

He was acknowledged and the blast,

:

Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,

And to Hubert thus said he :

"What I speak this Horn shall witness

For thy better memory.

Hear, then, and neglect me not!

At this time, and on this spot,

The words are uttered from my heart,

As my last carnest prayer ere we depart.

"On good service we are going

Life to risk by sea and land;

In which course if Christ our Saviour

Do my sinful soul demand,

T