pounds I will have, if I've any; or not a farthing! No, sir; no,-I don't want to dress up the children like peacocks and parrots! I only want to make 'em respectable. What do you say? You'll give me fifteen pounds? No, Caudle, no, not a penny will I take under twenty. If I did, it would seem as if I wanted to waste your money; and I am sure, when I come to think of it twenty pounds will hardly do! THE DAY-DREAM. 481 The maid of honor blooming fair, The page has caught her hand in his, Her lips are severed as to speak; His own are pouted to a kiss; The blush is fixed upon her cheek. Till all the hundred summers pass, The beams that, through the oriel shine, Make prisms in every carven glass, And beaker brimmed with noble wine. Each baron at the banquet sleeps; Grave faces gathered in a ring. His state the king reposing keeps : He must have been a jolly king. All round a hedge upshoots, and shows And grapes with bunches red as blood; High up, the topmost palace spire. When will the hundred summers die, And thought and time be born again, And newer knowledge drawing nigh, Bring truth that sways the soul of men? Here all things in their place remain, As all were ordered, ages since. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. Year after year unto her feet, She lying on her couch alone, Across the purple coverlet, The maiden's jet-black hair has grown; On either side her tranced form Forth streaming from a braid of pearl ; The slumb'rous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl. The silk star-broidered coverlid Unto her limbs itself doth mould, Languidly ever; and, amid Her full black ringlets, downward rolled, Glows forth each softly shadowed arm, With bracelets of the diamond bright. Her constant beauty doth inform Stillness with love, and day with light. She sleeps; her breathings are not heard That lie upon her charmed heart. The gold fringed pillow lightly prest; She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest. THE ARRIVAL. All precious things, discovered late, And draws the veil from hidden worth. He travels far from other skies His mantle glitters on the rocks— The bodies and the bones of those Or scattered blanching in the grass. "They perished in their daring deeds," This proverb flashes through his head: 'The many fail; the one succeeds." " He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks, He breaks the hedge; he enters there; The color flies into his cheeks; He trusts to light on something fair; For all his life the charm did talk About his path and hover near More close and close his footsteps wind; He stoops-to kiss her-on his knee: "Love, if thy tresses be so dark, How dark those hidden eyes must be!" THE REVIVAL. A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt, There rose a noise of striking clocks; And feet that ran, and doors that clapt, And barking dogs, and crowing cocks; YELL, thin, there was once't upon a time, away off in the ould coun try, livin' all her lane in the woods, in a wee bit iv a house be herself, a little rid hin. Nice an' quiet she was, and niver did no kind o' harrum in her life. An' there lived out over the hill, in a din o' the rocks, a crafty ould felly iv a fox. An' this same ould villain iv a fox, he laid awake o' nights, and he prowled round |