52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. I ARISE from dreams of thee Hath led me-who knows how? To thy chamber window, sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream- Like sweet thoughts in a dream; It dies upon her heart, Oh lift me from the grass! On my lips and eyelids pale. P. B. Shelley. A NIGHT-SONG OF LOVE. 53 A NIGHT-SONG OF LOVE. Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, A. Tennyson. MORNING SONG TO MAUD. I. COME into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, 54 MORNING SONG TO MAUD. 2 For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, 3. There has fall'n a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" 4. She is coming, my own, my sweet; A. Tennyson. A FAREWELL. 55 A FAREWELL. Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, A service to my bonnie lassie: Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The battle closes thick and bloody: Wad make me langer wish to tarry; Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar— It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary. R. Burns. 56 THE MINSTREL-BOY. THE MINSTREL-BOY. THE Minstrel-boy to the war is gone, And his wild harp slung behind him.— The Minstrel fell!-but the foeman's chain Thy songs were made for the brave and free, They shall never sound in slavery!" T. Moore. |