There was racing and chasing on Cannobie lea; But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. —So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye ere heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? SCOTT. WHEN THE WORLD IS BURNING. W (STANZAS FOR MUSIC.) HEN the world is burning, Till earth fall, fire-swathed; Where the dance is sweeping, When, far down some glade, Crocus in the shade. EBENEZER JONES. MAY AND DEATH. WISH that when you died last May, I Charles, there had died along with you Three parts of Spring's delightful things; A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps ! Moon's birth, and the long evening-ends. So, for their sake, prove May still May! Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold. Only, one little sight, one plant Woods have in May, that starts up green Except a streak, which, so to speak Is Spring's blood, spilt its leaves between, That, they might spare: a certain wood Might lose the plant; their loss were small : And I,-whene'er the plant is there Its drop comes from my heart, that's all. ROBERT BROWNING. I LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. ARISE from dreams of thee, In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me-who knows how? To thy chamber window, sweet! The wandering airs they faint O lift me from the grass! Let thy love in kisses rain O press it to thine own again, F THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR. ULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. He lieth still: he doth not move: He gave me a friend and a true true-love, And the New Year will take 'em away. Old year, you must not go; So long as you have been with us, He froth'd his bumpers to the brim ; Old year, you shall not die; We did so laugh and cry with you, He was full of joke and jest, But all his merry quips are o'er, To see him die, across the waste His son and heir doth ride post-haste, But he'll be dead before. Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friend, How hard he breathes! over the snow The cricket chirps: the light burns low: Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you: His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack! our friend is gone. eyes: tie up Close up his his chin: Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door. TENNYSON. |