66

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
'Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!
Dear heart," I said, we are long alone;

66

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."
But, ah! she gave me never a look,

For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more!
Come away, come down, call no more!

Down, down, down!

Down to the depths of the sea!

She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully.

Hark what she sings:

66

"O joy, O joy,

For the humming street, and the child with its toy!

For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well; For the wheel where I spun,

And the blessed light of the sun!"

And so she sings her fill,

Singing most joyfully,

Till the spindle drops from her hand,

And the whizzing wheel stands still.

She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,

And over the sand at the sea;

And her eyes are set in a stare;
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,

A long, long sigh,

For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away, children;

Come, children, come down!

The hoarse wind blows colder;
Lights shine in the town.

She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door :
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.

We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl;

Singing, "Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she!
And alone dwell forever
The kings of the sea."

But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starred with broom,
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanched sands a gloom;
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie,
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.

We will gaze, from the sand-hills,

At the white sleeping town;

At the church on the hill-side,

And then come back down,

Singing, "There dwells a loved one,

But cruel is she!

She left lonely forever

The kings of the sea."

Matthew Arnold

THE BUGLES OF DREAMLAND

WIFTLY the dews of the gloaming are falling:

SW

Faintly the bugles of Dreamland are calling. O hearken, my darling, the elf-flutes are blowing

The shining-eyed folk from the hill-side are flowing,

I' the moonshine the wild-apple blossoms are snowing,

And louder and louder where the white dews are falling

The far-away bugles of Dreamland are calling.

O what are the bugles of Dreamland calling There where the dews of the gloaming are falling?

Come away from the weary old world of tears, Come away, come away to where one never hears

The slow weary drip of the slow weary years, But peace and deep rest till the white dews are falling

And the blithe bugle-laughters through Dreamland are calling.

Fiona Macleod

GREEK ECHOES

Not here, O Apollo!

Are haunts meet for thee.

But where Helicon breaks down

In cliff to the sea,

Where the moon-silver'd inlets

Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,

O speed and rejoice!

Arnold