BALLADE OF HIS LADY. My lady's heart 'twere hard to touch, One would not like her half as well; She loves a rabbit in a hutch She loves an aged cat, whose clutch In fact it's easy to be seen, Were she at all averse to tell, My lady-love is just thirteen. Although she reads the Higher Dutch, Yet she has 'views' advanced and keen, My lady-love is just thirteen. Envoy. Madam, just homage you compel, Mature, self-conscious, and serene, One heart alone you cannot quell; My lady-love is just thirteen. J. B. B. NICHOLS. BALLADE OF EXMOOR. Fly westward, westward, gentle wind, And never sound the silence frays So soft, so strange the light that lined With glamour of the golden haze; His lordly brow by linn and lea, To fright the morris of the fays Athwart the slumberous Severn Sea. O'er the dim passes flung behind The dying daylight all ablaze, About those dainty tresses twined One aureole of dreamy rays, And many a winged lamp that strays Darkling his weird in heaven to dree, Lit the rare eyne downdrops to gaze Athwart the slumberous Severn Sea. Envoy. O westward wind, whose low breath sways Her locks, whereto night's shadows flee, Bear hence a lilt of summer lays Athwart the slumberous Severn Sea. F. S. P. BALLAD OF PAST DELIGHT. Where are the dreams of the days gone by, The songs we sang in the middle May, Where are the garlands our young hands twined ? All else flits past on the wings of the wind. Where are the ladies fair and high Marie and Alice and Maud and May And merry Madge with the laughing eyeAnd all the gallants of yesterday That held us merry--ah, where are they? Under the mould we must look to find Some; and the others are worn and grey. All else flits past on the wings of the wind. I know of nothing that lasts, not I, Save a heart that is true to its love alwayA love that is won with tear and sigh And never changes or fades away, These are the only things that stay: Envoy. Prince, I counsel you, never say, Alack for the years that are left behind! Look you keep love when your dreams decay; All else flits past on the wings of the wind. JOHN PAYNE. THE PIXIES. The frost hath spread a shining net Where floating lilies charmed the view; I know my fancies whisper true, When at the midnight chime are met I trow the gazer will regret That peers upon their retinue; For limb awry and eye askew Have oft proclaimed a fairy's spitePeep slyly, gallants, lest ye rue, The Pixies are abroad to-night. 'Tis said their forms are tiny, yet All human ills they can subdue, Or with a wand or amulet Can win a maiden's heart for you; And many a blessing know to strew To make the way to wedlock bright; Give honour to the dainty crew, The Pixies are abroad to-night. Envoy. Prince, e'en a prince might vainly sue, Remember Cinderella's shoe, The Pixies are abroad to-night. SAMUEL MINTURN PECK. A BALLADE OF THE THUNER-SEE. Soft on the lake's soft bosom we twain Float in the haze of a dim delight, And the eyes are glad of the lessening light, And the earth in its tender sorrow is dight, And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet. Oh, the mellow beam of the suns that wane, Oh the joys, ah me! that are taking flight, While the Blumlis-alp unveils to the night, Now we set our prow to the land again, And our backs to those splendours ghostly white, But a mirrored star with a watery train We hold in our wake as a golden kite; And its darker shade on the waters set, Lo! the dim shade fleeth before our sight, And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet. Envoy. From the jewelled circles where I indite This song which my faithless tears make wet, The shadow-that falleth! and spares us yet. |