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And the glow-worm of the grave

Glimmer iu thy rheumy eyes.

"Fear not thou to loose thy tongue ;

Set thy hoary fancies free; What is loathsome to the young

Savors ell to thee and me.

“Let me screw thee up a peg:

Let me loose thy tongue with wine: Callest thou that thing a leg?

Which is thinnest ? thine or mine ? "Thou shalt not be saved by works:

Thou hast been a sinner too: Ruin'd trunks on wither'd forks,

Empty scarecrows, I and you ! “Fill the cup, and all the can:

Have a rouse before the morn : Every moment dies a man,

Every moment one is born. “ We are men of ruin'd blood;

Therefore comes it we are wise. Fish are we that love the mud,

Rising to no fancy-flies.

“ Change, reverting to the years,

When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears,

Aud the warmth of hand in hand.

“Tell me tales of thy first love

April hopes, the fools of chance: Till the graves begin to move,

And the dead begin to dance.

“Name and fame! to fly sublime

Through the courts, the camps, the schools, Is to be the ball of Time;

Bandied in the hands of fools.

“Fill the can, and fill the cup:

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up,

And is lightly laid again.

“Trooping from their mouldy dens

The chap-fallen circle spreads : Welcome, fellow-citizens,

Hollow hearts and empty heads i “You are bones, and what of that?

Every face, however full, Padded round with flesh and fat,

Is but modellid on a skull.

“Death is king, and Vivat Rex!

Tread a measure on the stones, Madam-if I know your sex,

From the fashion of your bones.

“Friendship!-to be two in one

Let the capting liar pack ! Well I know, when I am gone,

How she mouths behind my back. “Virtue!-to be good and just

Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust,

Mix'd with canning sparks of hell. ** O! we two as well can look

Whited thought and cleanly life As the priest, above his book

Leering at his neighbor's wife. "Fill the cnp, and fill the can:

Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man,

Every moment one is born. "Drink, and let the parties rave:

They are fill'd with idle spleen ; Rising, falling, like a wave,

For they know not what they mean. “He that roars for liberty

Faster binds a tyrant's power; And the tyrant's cruel glee

Forces on the freer hour.

“No, I cannot praise the fire

In your eye-nor yet your lip: All the more do I admire

Joints of cunning workmanship. "Lo! God's likeness—the ground-plan

Neither modellid, glazed, or framed: Buss me, thou rough sketch of man,

Far too naked to be shamed !

“Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance,

While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance !

Hob-and-nob with brother Death!

“Thou art mazed, the vight is long,

And the longer night is near: What! I am not all as wrong

As a bitter jest is dear.

"Fill the can, and fill the cup:

All the windy ways of men Are bat dust that rises up,

And is lightly laid again. "Greet her with applausive breath,

Freedom, gayly doth she tread; In her right a civic wreath,

In her left a human head

“Youthful hopes, by scores, to all,

When the locks are crisp and currd; Unto me my maudlin gall And my

mockeries of the world.

“Fill the cup, and fill the can!

Mingle madness, mingle scorn! Dregs of life, and lees of man:

Yet we will not die forlorn.”

"No, I love not what is new;

She is of an ancient house : And I think we know the hue

of that cap upon her brows. “Let her go! her thirst she slakes

Where the bloody conduit rans: Then her sweetest meal she makes

On the first-born of her sons. “Drink to lofty hopes that cool

Visions of a perfect State: Drink we, last, the public fool,

Frantic love and frantic hate. “Chant me row some wicked stave, Till thy drooping courage rise,

The voice grew faint: there came a further change
Once more uprose the mystic mountain-range:
Below were men and horses pierced with worms,
And slowly quickening into lower forms;
By shards and scurf of salt, and scam of dross,
old plash of rains, and refuse patch'd with moss.
Then some one spake: "Behoid: it was crime
of sense avenged by sense that wore with time."
Another said: "The crime of sense became
The crime of malice, and is equal biame."

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PROLOGUE.

And sister Lilia with the rest." We went

(I kept the book and had my finger in it) SIB WALTER Vivian all a summer's day

Down thro’ the park: strange was the sight to me: Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun

For all the sloping pasture murmur'd, sown Up to the people : thither flock'd at noon

With happy faces and with holiday. His tenants, wife and child, and thither half

There moved the multitude, a thousand heads; The neighboring borough with their Institute

The patient leaders of their Institute Of which he was the patron. I was there

Taught them with facts. One reard a font of stone From college, visiting the son,—the son

And drew from butts of water on the slope, A Walter too,-with others of our set,

The fountain of the moment, playing now Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place.

A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls,

Or steep-up spout whereon the gilded ball And me that morning Walter show'd the house,

Danced like a wisp: and somewhat lower down Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, A cannon: Echo answer'd in her sleep

A man with knobs and wires and vials fired Grew side by side ; and on the pavement lay

From hollow fields: and here were telescopes Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park.

For azure views; and there a group of girls Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time ;

In circle waited, whom the electric shock And on the tables every elime and age

Dislink'd with shrieks and laughter: round the laka Jumbled together : celts and calumets,

A little clock-work steamer paddling plied Claymore and snow-shoe, toys in lava, fans

And shook the lilies : perch'd about the knolls Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,

A dozen angry models jetted steam: Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere,

A petty railway ran: a fire-balloon The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs

Rose gem-like up before the dusky groves From the isles of palm : and higher on the walls,

And dropt a fairy parachute and past : Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer,

And there thro' twenty posts of telegraph His own forefathers' arms and armor hung.

They flash'd a saucy message to and fro

Between the mimic stations; so that sport And “this," he said, “ was Hugh's at Agincourt; Went hand in hand with Science; otherwhere And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon:

Pure sport: a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd, A good knight he! we keep a chronicle

And stump'd the wicket; babies roll'd about With all about him,"_which he brought, and I

Like tumbled fruit in grass ; and men and maids Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights

Arranged a country dance, and flew thro' light Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings

And shadow, while the twangling violin Who laid about them at their wills and died ;

Strnck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead And mixt with these, a lady, one that arm'd The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime Her own fair head, and sallying thro' the gate, Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end. Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls.

Strange was the sight and smacking of the time; "O miracle of women,' " said the book,

And long we gazed, but satiated at length "O noble heart who, being strait-besieged

Came to the ruins. High-arch'd and ivy-claspt, By this wild king to force her to his wish,

of finest Gothic lighter than a fire, Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunnid a soldier's death, Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave But now when all was lost or seem'd as lost- The park, the crowd, the house; but all within Her stature more than mortal in the burst

The sward was trim as any garden lawn: Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire

And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate, And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends And, falling on them like a thunderbolt,

From neighbor seats: and there was Ralph himself, She trampled some beneath her horses' heels, A broken statue propt against the wall, And some were whelm'd with missiles of the wall, As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport, And some were push'd with lances from the rock, Half child, half woman as she was, had wound And part were drown'd within the whirling brook: A scarf of orange round the stony helm, O miracle of noble womanhood !"

And robed the shoulders in a rosy silk,

That made the old warrior from his ivied nook So sang the gallant glorious chronicle ;

Glow like a sunbeam: near his tomb a feast And, I all rapt in this, “Come out," he said, Shone, silver-set; about it lay the guests, “To the Abbey: there is Aunt Elizabeth

And there we joined them : then the maiden Aunt

Took this fair day for text, and from it preach'd So moulder'd in a sinecure as he:
An universal culture for the crowd,

For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet,
And all things great; but we, unworthier, told And our long walks were stript as bare as brooms,
Or College : he had climb'd across the spikes, We did but talk you over, pledge you all
And he had squeezed himself betwixt the bars, In wassail : often, like as many girls-
And he had breathed the Proctor's dogs: and one Sick for the hollies and the yews of home-
Discuss'd his tutor, rough to common men,

As many little trifling Lilias-play'd But honeying at the whisper of a lord;

Charades and riddles as at Christmas here, And one the Master, as a rogue in grain

And what's my thought and when and where and how Veneer'd with sanctimonious theory.

And often told a tale from mouth to mouth

As here at Christmas." But while they talk'd, above their heads I saw

She remember'd that: The feudal warrior lady-clad; which brought A pleasant game, she thought: she liked it more My book to mind: and opening this I read

Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest. of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang

But these-what kind of tales did men tell men, With tilt and tourney; then the tale of her

She wonder'd, by themselves ! That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls,

A half-disdain And much I praised her nobleness, and “Where,” Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips : Ask'd Walter, patting Lilia's head (she lay

And Walter nodded at me ; " He began, Beside him) "lives there such a woman now !" The rest would follow, each in turn; and so

Quick answer'd Lilia, “There are thousands now We forged a sevenfold story. Kind? what kind !
Such women, but convention beats them down: Chimeras, crotchets, Christmas solecisms,
It is but bringing up: no more than that:

Sevev-headed monsters only made to kill
Yon men have done it: how I hate you all! Time by the fire in winter."
Ah, were I something great! I wish I were

" Kill him now, Some mighty poetess, I would shame you then, The tyrant! kill bim in the summer too,” That love to keep us children! 0 I wish

Said Lilia ; “Why not now," the maiden Aunt. That I were some great Princess, I would build “Why not a summer's as a winter's tale ? Far off from men a college like a man's,

A tale for summer as befits the time, And I would teach them all that men are taught: And something it should be to suit the place, We are twice as quick!" And here she shook aside Heroic, for a hero lies beneath, The hand that play'd the patron with her curls. Grave, solemn !"

Walter warp'd his mouth at this And one said smiling, “ Pretty were the sight To something so mock-solemn, that I laugh'd If onr old halls could change their sex, and flaunt And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, An echo like a ghostly woodpecker, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt I think they should not wear our rusty gowns, (A little sense of wrong had touch'd her face But move as rich as Emperor-moths or Ralph With color) turn'd to me with “As you will; Who shines so in the corner ; yet I fear,

Heroic if you will, or what you will, If there were many Lilias in the brood,

Or be yourself your hero if you will." However deep you might embower the nest,

“Take Lilia, then, for heroine," clamor'd he, Some boy would spy it.”

* And make her some great Princess, six feet high, At this npou the sward Grand, epic, homicidal ; and be you She tapt her tiny silken-sandal'd foot:

The Prince to win her!" "That's your light way: but I would make it death

" Then follow me, the Prince," For any male thing but to peep at us."

I answer'd, " each be hero in his turn !

Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream.Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh'd ; Heroic seems our Princess as required.--A rose-bud set with little wilful thorns,

But something made to suit with Time and place, And sweet as English air could make her, she: A Gothic ruin and a Grecian house, But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her, A talk of college and of ladies' rights, And "petty Ogress," and "ungrateful Puss," A feudal knight in silken masquerade, And swore he long'd at College, only long'd, And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments All else was well, for she-society.

For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them allThey boated and they cricketed; they talk'd This were a medley! we should have him back At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics ;

Who told the “Winter's tale' to do it for us. They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans; No matter : we will say whatever comes. They rode; they betted ; made a hundred friends, And let the ladies sing us, if they will, And caught the blossom of the flying terms, From time to time, some ballad or a song But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place,

To give us breathing-space.” The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke,

So I began, Part banter, part affection,

And the rest follow'd: and the women gang

"True," she said, Between the rougher voices of the men, "We doubt not that. O yes, you miss'd us much. Like lipuets in the pauses of the wind : I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did.”

And here I give the story and the songs. She held it out; and as a parrot turns

1.
Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving eye,
And takes a lady's finger with all care,

A PRINDE I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
And bites it for true heart and not for harm, of temper amorous, as the first of May,
So he with Lilia's. Daintily she shriek'd

With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl,
And wrung it. “Doubt my word again!" he said. For on my cradle shone the Northern star.
"Come, listen! here is proof that you were miss'd :
We seven stay'd at Christmas up to read,

There lived an ancient legend in our house. And there we took one tutor as to read:

Some sorcerer, whom a far-off grandsire burnt The hard-grain'd Muses of the cube and square Because he cast no shadow, had foretold, Were out of season : never man, I think,

Dying, that none of all our blood should know

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