To be a pilgrim on the nether earth.

66

Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him;

Twine ye, twine, till the fast, firm fate surround him

Till the firm, cold fate hath bound him,

Which bindeth all before their birth

Down upon the nether earth."

TO MEMORY.

COME to me often, sportive Memory;

Thy hands are full of flowers, thy voice is sweet,
Thine innocent, uncareful look doth meet
The solitary cravings of mine eye;

I cannot let thee flit unheeded by,

For I have gentle words wherewith to greet
Thy welcome visits: pleasant hours are fleet,
So let us sit and talk the sand-glass dry,
Dear visitant, who comest, dark and light,
Morning and evening, and with merry voice
Tellest of new occasion to rejoice;

And playest round me in the fairy night,
Like a quaint spirit, on the moonlight beams,
Threading the lazy labyrinth of dreams.

A CHURCHYARD PICTURE.

SLOWLY and softly let the music go

As ye wind upwards to the grey church tower, Check the shrill hautboy, let the pipe breathe lowTread lightly on the path-side daisy flower.

For she ye carry was a gentle bud,

Loved by the unsunn'd drops of silver dew;
Her voice was like the whisper of the wood
In prime of even, when the stars are few.
Lay her all gently in the flowerful mould,
Weep with her one brief hour, then turn away,—
Go to Hope's prison,-and from out the cold.
And solitary gratings many a day

Look forth: 't is said the world is growing old,—
And streaks of orient light in Time's horizon play.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest 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 Caroline :
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 you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands 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 should I see,
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yester-

day,

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 light. 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,-what is that to me?
There's many a bolder lad'll woo me any summer day,
For 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 wov'n 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 grey,

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;

There will not be a drop of 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 glad New-year; To-morrow 'll be of all the year the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.