THE LAY OF THE ROSE.

BY ELIZABETH B. BARRETT.

"Discordance that can accord;

And accordance to discord."

The Romaunt of the Rose.

A ROSE Once pass'd within
A garden, April-green,
In her loneness, in her loneness,
And the fairer for that oneness.

A white rose, delicate,

On a tall bough and straight, Early comer, April comer, Never waiting for the summer;

Whose pretty gestes did win
South winds to let her in,
In her loneness, in her loneness.
All the fairer for that oneness.

"For if I wait," said she,

"Till times for roses be,

For the musk rose, and the moss rose,

Royal red and maiden blush rose,

"What glory then for me,
In such a company?

Roses plenty, roses plenty,
And one nightingale for twenty!

'Nay, let me in," said she, "Before the rest are free, In my loneness, in my loneness, All the fairer for that oneness.

"For I would lonely stand, Uplifting my white hand, On a mission, on a mission, To declare the coming vision.

"See mine, a holy heart, To high ends set apart,All unmated, all unmated, Because so consecrated.

"Upon which lifted sign, What worship will be mine! What addressing, what caressing, What thanks, and praise and blessing'

"A wind-like joy will rush
Through every tree and bush,
Bending softly in affection,
And spontaneous benediction.

"Insects, that only may

Live in a sunbright ray,

To my whiteness, to my whiteness
Shall be drawn, as to a brightness.

"And every moth and bee Shall near me reverently, Wheeling round me, wheeling o'er me Coronals of motioned glory.

"I ween the very skies

Will look down in surprise,

When low on earth they see me,

With my cloudy aspect dreamy.

"E'en nightingales shall flee Their woods for love of me, Singing sadly all the suntide, Never waiting for the moontide!

"Three larks shall leave a cloud, To my whiter beauty vow'd, Singing gladly all the moontide, Never waiting for the suntide."

So praying did she win

South winds to let her in,
In her loneness, in her loneness,
And the fairer for that oneness.

But out, alas, for her!
No thing did minister

To her praises, to her praises,
More than might unto a daisy's.

No tree nor bush was seen
To boast a perfect green,
Scarcely having, scarcely having
One leaf broad enow for waving.

The little flies did crawl Along the southern wall, Faintly shifting, faintly shifting

Wings scarce strong enow for lifting,

The nightingale did please
To loiter beyond seas,
Guess him in the happy islands,
Hearing music from the silence.

The lark too high or low,
Did haply miss her so-
With his crest down in the gorses,
And his song in the star-courses!

Only the bee, forsooth, Came in the place of bothDoing honour, doing honour, To the honey-dews upon her.

The skies look'd coldly down
As on a royal crown;
Then, drop by drop, at leisure,
Began to rain for pleasure.

Whereat the earth did seem To waken from a dream, Winter frozen, winter frozen, Her anguish eyes unclosing.

Said to the rose," Ha, Snow!
And art thou fallen so?
Thou who wert enthronéd stately
Along my mountains lately.

"Holla, thou world-wide snow!
And art thou wasted so?
With a little bough to catch thee
And a little bee to watch thee?"

Poor rose, to be misknown!
Would she had ne'er been blown,
In her loneness, in her loneness,
All the sadder for that oneness.

Some words she tried to say, Some sigh-ah, well away! But the passion did o'ercome her, And the fair frail leaves dropp'd from her.