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ON A LEAF FROM THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.

149

LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY. - Watts.

It was a brave attempt! adventurous he
Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea,
And, leaving his dear native shores behind,
Trusted his life to the licentious wind.
I see the surging brine ; the tempest raves;
He on the pine-plank rides across the waves,
Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves; )
He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails,
Conquers the flood, and manages the gales.

Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land,
Fearless, when the great Master gives command.
Death is the storm ; she smiles to hear it roar,
And bids the tempest waft her from the shore ;
Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas,
And manages the raging storm with ease
(Her faith can govern death); she spreads her

wings Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings, And loses by degrees the sight of mortal things. As the shores lessen, so her joys arise, The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies; Now vast eternity fills all her sight, She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight, The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright)

ON A LEAF FROM THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.

Mrs. Hemans.

AND was thy home, pale, withered thing,

Beneath the rich blue southern sky? Wert thou a nursling of the spring,

The winds, and suns of glorious Italy?

Those suns, in golden light, e'en now

Look o'er the poet's lovely grave;
Those winds are breathing soft, but thou,
Answering their whisper, there no more shalt

wave.

The flowers o'er Posilippo's * brow

May cluster in their purple bloom, But on the o'ershadowing ilex-bough

Thy breezy place is void, by Virgil's tomb.

Thy place is void, -0, none on earth,

This crowded earth, may so remain, Save that which souls of loftiest birth Leave when they part, their brighter home to

gain !

Another leaf ere now hath sprung

On the green stem which once was thine ;When shall another strain be sung Like his whose dust hath made that spot a

shrine ?

THE MAY QUEEN. — Tennyson.

You must wake and call me early, call me early,

mother dear, To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the blithe

New Year;

* A mountain skirting the shores of the Bay of Naples, on one of the most beautiful heights of which stands the tomb of Virgil.

THE MAY QUEEN.

151

Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, mer

riest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

There 's many a black, black eye, they say, but none

so bright as mine; There 's Margaret and Mary, there 's Kate and Caro

line ; But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they

say,

So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never

wake, If ye do not call me loud when the day begins to

break; But I must gather knots of flowers and buds, and gar

lands gay; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I’m to be

Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley, whom think ye I should see, But Robin, leaning on the bridge, beneath the hazle

tree ? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him

yesterday, — But I'm to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in

white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they

say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I’m to be

Queen o' the May.

They say he 's dying all for love, — but that can never

be; They say his heart is breaking, mother, — but what

is that to me? There's many a bolder lad 'll woo me any summer

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And I'm to be Queen o’the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green, And you 'll be there too, mother, to see me made the

Queen; For the shepherd lads on every side 'll come from

far away, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy

bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint, sweet

cuckoo-flowers, And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps

and hollows gray, And I'm to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the

meadow-grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as

they pass,

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

153

There will not be a drop o' rain the whole of the live

long day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May. All the valley, mother, 'll be fresh and green and

still, And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the

hill, And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'll merrily glance

and play, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o'the May. So you must wake and call me early, call me early,

mother dear, To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the blithe

New Year, To-morrow 'll be of all the year the maddest, mer

riest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

NEW YEAR'S EVE. — Tennyson.

If you 're waking, call me early, call me early, mother

dear, For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year, It is the last New Year that I shall ever see, Then ye may lay me low in the mould, and think no

more o' me.

To-night I saw the sun set; he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace

of mind;

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