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A new-born morning from the Infinite
Before my very face: my heart leaped up,
Inexorable Labour called me forth;

And as I hurried through the busy streets,
There was a sense of envy in my heart
Of lazy lengths of rivers in the sun,
Larks soaring up the ever-soaring sky,

And mild kine couched in fields of uncrushed dew.

From Horton.

A DREAM.

Fair lady, in my dream

Methought I was a weak and lonely bird,

In search of summer, wandered on the sea,
Toiling through mists, drenched by the arrowy rain,
Struck by the heartless winds: at last, methought
I came upon an isle in whose sweet air

I dried my feathers, smoothed my ruffled breast,
And skimmed delight from off the waving woods.
Thy coming, lady, reads this dream of mine:
I am the swallow, thou the summer land.

From A Life Drama.

THE DYING KING.

A grim old king,

Whose blood leapt madly when the trumpets brayed
To joyous battle 'mid a storm of steeds,
Won a rich kingdom on a battle-day;

But in the sunset he was ebbing fast,

Ringed by his weeping lords. His left hand held His white steed, to the belly splashed with blood, That seemed to mourn him with his drooping head;

His right, his broken brand; and in his ear

His old victorious banners flap the winds.

He called his faithful herald to his side,'Go! tell the dead I come!' With a proud smile, The warrior with a stab let out his soul,

Which fled and shrieked through all the other world, 'Ye dead! My master comes!' And there was pause Till the great shade should enter.

From A Life Drama.

MY

DUTY AND FAME.

Y life was a long dream; when I awoke,
Duty stood like an angel in my path,
And seemed so terrible, I could have turned
Into my yesterdays, and wandered back
To distant childhood, and gone out to God
By the gate of birth, not death. Lift, lift me up
By thy sweet inspiration, as the tide

Lifts up a stranded boat upon the beach.

I will go forth 'mong men, not mailed in scorn,
But in the armour of a pure intent.

Great duties are before me and great songs,
And whether crowned or crownless when I fall
It matters not, so as God's work is done.
I've learned to prize the quiet lightning-deed,
Not the applauding thunder at its heels
Which men call Fame.

From A Life Drama.

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Let time and chance combine;

The fairest love from heaven above,

That love of yours was mine,

My dear,

That love of yours was mine.

The past is fled and gone, and gone,
The past is fled and gone;

If nought but pain to me remain,

I'll fare in memory on,

My dear,

I'll fare in memory on.

The saddest tears must fall, must fall,
The saddest tears must fall;

In weal or woe, in this world below,
I love you ever and all,

My dear,

I love you ever and all.

A long road full of pain, of pain,

A long road full of pain;

One soul, one heart, sworn ne'er to part,

We ne'er can meet again,

My dear,

We ne'er can meet again.

Hard fate will not allow, allow,

Hard fate will not allow;

We blessed were as the angels are,

Adieu for ever now,

My dear,

Adieu for ever now.

ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY.

Born 1815. Died 1881.

ASH WEDNESDAY.

(Written on the anniversary of the deaths of his mother and wife.)

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DAY of Ashes!-twice for me

Thy mournful title hast thou earned,

For twice my life of life by thee

Has been to dust and ashes turned.

No need, dark day, that thou should'st borrow

The trappings of a formal sorrow;

In thee are cherished fresh and deep

Long memories that cannot sleep.

My Mother-on that fatal day,

O'er seas and deserts far apart,
The guardian genius passed away

That nursed my very mind and heart-
The oracle that never failed,

The faith serene that never quailed,
The kindred soul that knew my thought
Before its speech or form was wrought.

My Wife-when closed that fatal night,
My being turned once more to stone,
I watched her spirit take its flight,

And found myself again alone.
The sunshine of the heart was dead
The glory of the home was fled,

The smile that made the dark world bright,

The love that made all duty light.

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