To dedicate to England's Queen
The visions that my soul has seen,
And by her kind permission bring
What I have borne on solemn wing
From the vast regions of the grave.
Before her throne my wings I wave,
Bowing before my sovereign's feet.
The Grave produced these blossoms sweet,
In mild repose from earthly strife;
The blossoms of eternal life.

BROKEN LOVE.

MY Spectre around me night and day

Like a wild beast guards my way;

My Emanation far within

Weeps incessantly for my sin.

A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My Spectre follows thee behind.

He scents thy footsteps in the snow,
Wheresoever thou dost go;

Through the wintry hail and rain

When wilt thou return again?

Poor, pale, pitiable form,

That I follow in a storm,

From sin I never shall be free

Till thou forgive and come to me.

A deep winter, dark and cold,
Within my heart thou dost unfold;
Iron tears and groans of lead

Thou bind'st around my aching head.

Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears?
And fill my pleasant nights with tears?

O'er my sins thou dost sit and moan:
Hast thou no sins of thine own?
O'er my sins thou dost sit and weep,
And lull thine own sins fast asleep.

Thy weeping thou shalt ne'er give o'er ;
I sin against thee more and more,
And never will from sin be free
Till thou forgive and come to me.

What transgressions I commit
Are for thy transgressions fit-
They, thy harlots, thou their slave;
And my bed becomes their grave.

Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Hath bereavèd of their life:

Their marble tombs I built with tears
And with cold and shadowy fears.

Seven more loves weep night and day Round the tombs where my loves lay, And seven more loves attend at night Around my couch with torches bright.

And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with vine my mournful head;
Pitying and forgiving all

Thy transgressions, great and small.

When wilt thou return, and view
- My loves, and them in life renew!
When wilt thou return and live?
When wilt thou pity as I forgive?

Throughout all eternity

I forgive you, you forgive me. As our dear Redeemer said: "This the wine, and this the bread."

YOUNG LOVE.

ARE not the joys of morning sweeter

Than the joys of night?

And are the vigorous joys of youth
Ashamed of the light?

Let age and sickness silent rob

The vineyard in the night;

But those who burn with vigorous youth Pluck fruits before the light.

I

THE TWO SONGS.

HEARD an Angel singing

When the day was springing : "Mercy, pity, and peace,

Are the world's release."

So he sang all day

Over the new-mown hay,

Till the sun went down,

And haycocks looked brown.

I heard a devil curse

Over the heath and the furse:
"Mercy could be no more
If there were nobody poor,
And pity no more could be
If all were happy as ye :

And mutual fear brings peace.
Misery's increase

Are mercy, pity, peace."

At his curse the sun went down,
And the heavens gave a frown.