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O sweeter than the marriage feast-'tis sweeter far to me
To walk together to the kirk with a goodly company!—
To walk together to the kirk, and all together pray;

While each to his Great Father bends,-old men and babes, and loving friends, and youths and maidens gay.

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell to thee, thou Wedding-guest:
He prayeth well, who loveth well both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best all things, both great and small;
For the dear God that loveth us, He made and loveth all.”

The Mariner, whose eye is bright, whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone; and now the Wedding-guest-turns from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that hath been stunned, and is of sense forlorn :
-A sadder and a wiser man he rose the morrow morn.

11.-THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER.-Mackay.

Around the board the guests were met, the lights above them beaming,
And in their cups, replenish'd oft, the ruddy wine was streaming;
Their cheeks were flush'd, their eyes were bright, their hearts with pleasure
bounded,

The song was sung, the toast was given, and loud the revel sounded.
I drained a goblet with the rest, and cried, "Away with sorrow!

Let us be happy for to-day; what care we for to-morrow?"
But as I spoke, my sight grew dim, and slumber deep came o'er me,
And, 'mid the whirl of mingling tongues, this vision pass'd before me.
Methought I saw a Demon rise: he held a mighty bicker,

Whose burnish'd sides ran brimming o'er with floods of burning liquor:
Around him press'd a clamorous crowd, to taste this liquor greedy,
But chiefly came the poor and sad, the suffering and the needy;
All those oppress'd by grief or debt, the dissolute, the lazy,-
Blear-eyed old men and reckless youths, and palsied women, crazy;
"Give, give!" they cried, "give, give us drink, to drown all thought of

sorrow;

If we are happy for to-day, what care we for to-morrow ?"

The first drop warm'd their shivering skins, and drove away their sadness ;
The second lit their sunken eyes, and filled their souls with gladness;
The third drop made them shout and roar, and play each furious antic;
The fourth drop boil'd their very blood: and the fifth drop drove them
frantic.

"Drink!" said the Demon, "Drink your fill ! drink of these waters mellow; They'll make your eye-balls sear and dull, and turn your white skins yellow; They'll fill your homes with care and grief, and clothe your backs with tatters; They'll fill your hearts with evil thoughts; but never mind!—what matters? "Though virtue sink, and reason fail, and social ties dissever,

I'll be your friend in hour of need, and find you homes for ever;
For I have built three mansions high, three strong and goodly houses,
To lodge at last each jolly soul who all his life carouses.—
The first, it is a spacious house, to all but sots appalling,
Where, by the parish bounty fed, vile, in the sunshine crawling,
The worn-out drunkard ends his days, and eats the dole of others,—
A plague and burthen to himself, an eye-sore to his brothers.

"The second is a lazarhouse, rank, fetid, and unholy;
Where, smitten by diseases foul and hopeless melancholy,

The victims of potations deep pine on the couch of sadness,—
Some calling Death to end their pain, and some imploring Madness.
The third and last is black and high, the abode of guilt and anguish,
And full of dungeons deep and fast, where death-doom'd felons languish.
So drain the cup, and drain again! One of my goodly houses
Shall lodge at last each jolly soul who to the dregs carouses!"

But well he knew-that Demon old-how vain was all his preaching,
The ragged crew that round him flock'd were heedless of his teaching;
Even as they heard his fearful words, they cried, with shouts of laughter,—
"Out on the fool who mars To-day, with thoughts of an Hereafter!
We care not for thy houses three; we live but for the present;
And merry will we make it yet, and quaff our bumpers pleasant."
Loud laugh'd the fiend to hear them speak, and, lifting high his bicker,
"Body and Soul are mine!" said he; "I'll have them both-for liquor!"

12.- OPENING OF L'ALLEGRO.-Milton.

...

Hence! loathed Melancholy, of Cerberus, and blackest Midnight born, in Stygian cave forlorn, 'mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell, where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, and the night raven sings; there under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, as ragged as thy locks, in dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell... But come, thou goddess fair and free, in heaven ycleped Euphrosyne, and by men, heart-easing Mirth, whom lovely Venus at a birth with two sister Graces more to ivy-crowned Bacchus bore. Haste thee, Nymph,

and bring with thee jests and youthful jollity, quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, such as hang on Hebe's cheek, and love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, and Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go on the light fantastic toe, and, in thy right hand, lead with thee the mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; and if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, to live with her and live with thee, in unreprovèd pleasures free.

18.-OPENING OF IL PENSEROSO.-Milton.

Hence! vain deluding Joys, the brood of Folly, without father bred! how little you bestead, or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys! dwell in some idle brain, and fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,- —as thick and numberless as the gay motes that people the sun-beams; or likest hovering dreams, the fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train!......But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy, hail, divinest Melancholy! whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of mortal sight; and therefore, to our weaker view, o'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue. Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, sober, steadfast, and demure, all in that robe of darkest grain flowing with majestic train, and sable stole of cypress lawn over thy decent shoulders drawn come, but keep thy wonted state, with even step and musing gait, and looks commercing with the skies, thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes; there held in holy passion still, forget thyself to marble, till with a sad, leaden, downward cast, thou fix them on the earth as fast.

14.-THE MAY QUEEN (Condensation).-Tennyson.

PART FIRST.-MAY-DAY EVE.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow will 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 of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of 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 of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of 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 will come from far away,

And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

All the valley, mother, will be fresh, and green, and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,

And the rivulet in the flowery dale will merrily glance and play;
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow will be the happiest time of all the glad New Year-
To-morrow will be of all the year the maddest, merriest day;
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

PART SECOND.-NEW YEAR'S EVE.

If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear;
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year.

It is the last New Year that I shall ever see;

Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me.

To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind

The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;
And the New Year's coming up, mother; but I shall never see
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day;
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May;
And we danced about the maypole and in the hazel copse,
Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.
There's not a flower on all the hills; the frost is on the pane;
I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again :

I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high;
I long to see a flower so, before the day I die.

You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,
And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.
I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass,
With your feet above my head, in the long and pleasant grass.
If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place;
Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face;
Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say,
And be often, often with you, when you think I'm far away.
Good night, good night! When I have said good night for evermore,
And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door;

Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green;
She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.

Good night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born.
All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;
But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year,
So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.

PART THIRD.-THE CONCLUSION.

I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am;
And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb.
How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year!
To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here.
O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies,
And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise,
And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow,
—And sweeter far is death than life, to me that long to go.

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It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,
And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be done!
But still I think it can't be long before I find release;
And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace.

He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin.
Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in:
Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be,
For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

All in the wild March morning I heard the angels call;

It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all,
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll;
And in the wild March morning I heard them call my soul.

I thought that it was fancy, and I listen'd in my bed,

And then did something speak to me-I know not what was said;
For great delight, and shuddering, took hold of all my mind,
And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them: it's mine."
And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.
And once again it came, and close beside the window bars,
Then seem'd to go right up to Heaven, and die among the stars.

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