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Round thee blow, self-pleached deep,
Bramble-roses, faint and pale,

And long purples of the dale.
Let them rave.

These in every shower creep

Thro' the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

The gold-eyed kingcups fine;
The frail bluebell peereth over
Rare broidry of the purple clover.
Let them rave.

Kings have no such couch as thine,
As the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

Wild words wander here and there:
God's great gift of speech abused
Makes thy memory confused:
But let them rave.

The balm-cricket carols clear

In the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

LOVE AND DEATH.

WHAT time the mighty moon was gathering light
Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise,

And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes;
When, turning round a cassia, full in view
Death, walking all alone beneath a yew,
And talking to himself, first met his sight:

"You must begone," said Death, "these walks are mine."

Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted said, "This hour is thine:

Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree
Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,

So in the light of great eternity

Life eminent creates the shade of death;
The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,
But I shall reign forever over all."

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When the long dun wolds are ribb'd with snow, And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow,

Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

Ere the light on dark was growing,
Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing,
Oriana:

Winds were blowing, waters flowing,
We heard the steeds to battle going,
Oriana;

Aloud the hollow bugle blowing,
Oriana.

In the yew-wood black as night,
Oriana,

Ere I rode into the fight,

Oriana,

Thy heart, my life, my love, my bride,

Oriana!

Oh! narrow, narrow was the space,

Oriana.

Loud, loud rung out the bugle's brays,
Oriana.

Oh! deathful stabs were dealt apace,

The battle deepen'd in its place,

Oriana;

But I was down upon my face,

Oriana.

They should have stabb'd me where I lay,

Oriana!

How could I rise and come away,

Oriana?

How could I look upon the day?

They should have stabb'd me where I lay, Oriana

They should have trod me into clay,

Oriana.

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Oriana.

When the long dun wolds are ribb'd with snow, And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow,

Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

Ere the light on dark was growing,
Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing,
Oriana:

Winds were blowing, waters flowing,
We heard the steeds to battle going,
Oriana;

Aloud the hollow bugle blowing,
Oriana.

In the yew-wood black as night,
Oriana,

Ere I rode into the fight,

Oriana,

While blissful tears blinded my sight
By star-shine and by moonlight,
Oriana.

I to thee my troth did plight,
Oriana.

She stood upon the castle-wall,
Oriana:

She watch'd my crest among them all,
Oriana:

She saw me fight, she heard me call,
When forth there stept a foeman tall,

Oriana,

Atween me and the castle-wall,
Oriana.

The bitter arrow went aside,
Oriana :

The false, false arrow went aside,
Oriana:

The damned arrow glanced aside,

And pierced thy heart, my love, my bride,

Oriana!

Thy heart, my life, my love, my bride,
Oriana!

Oh! narrow, narrow was the space,
Oriana.

Loud, loud rung out the bugle's brays,
Oriana.

Oh! deathful stabs were dealt apace,

The battle deepen'd in its place,

Oriana;

But I was down upon my face,

Oriana.

They should have stabb'd me where I lay, Oriana!

How could I rise and come away,

Oriana?

How could I look upon the day?

They should have stabb'd me where I lay, Oriana

They should have trod me into clay,

Oriana.

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