But ah, the thrill of wild delight
That shot through every vein!
He stood before her, -Lara's knight,
The noblest knight of Spain!

LINES

WRITTEN TO A MARCH COMPOSED IN IMITATION OF A MILITARY BAND.

I SEE them on their winding way,

Above their ranks the moon-beams play,
And nearer yet, and yet more near,

The martial chorus strikes the ear.

They're lost and gone, the moon is past,
The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast,
And fainter, fainter, fainter still,
The dim march warbles up the hill.

Again, again, the pealing drum,

The clashing horn-they come! they come !
And lofty deeds and daring high,

Blend with their notes of victory.

Forth, forth, and meet them on their way,
The trampling hoof brooks no delay;
The thrilling fife, the pealing drum,
How late--but oh, how loved they come!

19

TO A WELSH AIR.

"CODIAD YR HYDOD."

WHY that neck of marble whiteness,

Why that hair of sunny brightness,
Form of perfect mould;

Why those fringèd eyelids screening,
Lights of love and liquid meaning,
While the heart is cold?

Shame on her whose pride or malice With a lover's anguish dallies! Scorn our scatter'd reason rallies: Thou shalt mourn thy tyrant sallies, Ere that thou art old-young Alice, Ere that thou art old!

THE GROUND SWELL.

How soft the shades of evening creep

O'er yonder dewy lea,

Where balmy winds have lull'd to sleep

The tenants of the tree.

No wandering breeze is here to sweep,

In shadowy ripple o'er the deep,

Yet swells the heaving sea!

How calm the sky! rest, ocean, rest,
From storm and ruffle free,

Calm as the image on thy breast
Of her that governs thee!

And yet beneath the moon's mild reign

Thy broad breast heaves as one in pain, Thou dark and silent sea.

There are whom fortune vainly wooes

With all her pageantry,

Whom every flattering bliss pursues,

Yet still they fare like thee;

The spell is laid within their mind,
Least wretched then when most resign'd,
Their hearts throb silently!

TRANSLATIONS, ETC.