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A glimmering shoulder under gloom

Of cavern pillars; on the swell

The silver lily heaved and fell;
And many a slope was rich in bloom,

From him that on the mountain lea

By dancing rivulets fed his flocks,

To him who sat upon the rocks,
And fluted to the morning sea.


COME not, when I am dead,

To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head,

And vex the unhappy dust thou would'st not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;

But thou, go by.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime,

I care no longer, being all unblest;
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,

And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie :

Go by, go by.



He clasps the crag with hookéd hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.



ONCE more the gate behind me falls ;

Once more before my face
I see the mouldered Abbey-walls,

That stand within the chace.


Beyond the lodge the city lies,

Beneath its drift of smoke ;
And ah! with what delighted eyes

I turn to yonder oak !


For when my passion first began,

Ere that which in me burned,
The love that makes me thrice a man,

Could hope itself returned ;


To yonder oak within the field

I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appealed

Than Papist unto Saint.

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Though what he whispered under Heaven

None else could understand; I found him garrulously given,

A babbler in the land.


But since I heard him make reply

Is many a weary hour; "Twere well to question him, and try

If yet he keeps the power.


Hail, hidden to the knees in fern,

Broad oak of Sumner-chace, Whose topmost branches can discern

The roofs of Sumner-place!


Say thou, whereon I carved her name,

If ever maid or spouse, As fair as my Olivia, came

To rest beneath thy boughs ?

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“O Walter, I have sheltered here

Whatever maiden grace The good old Summers, year by year,

Made ripe in Sumner-chace :


“ Old Summers, when the monk was fat,

And, issuing shorn and sleek, Would twist his girdle tight, and pat

The girls upon the cheek,


“ Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's-pence,

And numbered bead, and shrift, Bluff Harry broke into the spence,

And turned the cowls adrift:


66 And I have seen some score of those

Fresh faces, that would thrive

When his man-minded offset rose

To chase the deer at five;


“ And all that from the town would stroll,

Till that wild wind made work, In which the gloomy brewer's soul

Went by me, like a stork:


“ The slight she-slips of loyal blood,

And others, passing praise, Strait-laced, but all-too-full in bud

For puritanic stays:


66 And I have shadowed many a group

Of beauties, that were born
In teacup-times of hood and hoop,

Or while the patch was worn;


" And, leg and arm with love-knots gay,

About me leaped and laughed The modish Cupid of the day,

And shrilled his tinsel shaft.


“I swear (and else may insects prick

Each leaf into a gall)
This girl, for whom your heart is sick,

Is three times worth them all ;


“ For those and theirs, by Nature's law,

Have faded long ago;
But in these latter springs I saw

Your own Olivia blow,


“ From when she gambolled on the greens,

A baby-germ, to when
The maiden blossoms of her teens

Could number five from ten.


" I swear, by leaf, and wind, and rain,

(And hear me with thine ears,) That, though I circle in the grain

Five hundred rings of years


6 Yet, since I first could cast a shade,

Did never creature pass So slightly, musically made,

So light upon the grass :


“For as to fairies, that will flit

To make the greensward fresh, I hold them exquisitely knit,

But far too spare of flesh.”


O, hide thy knotted knees in fern,

And overlook the chace;
And from thy topmost branch discern

The roofs of Sumner-place.


But thou, whereon I carved her name,

That oft hast heard my vows, Declare when last Olivia came

To sport beneath thy boughs.


“ O yesterday, you know, the fair

Was holden at the town;

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