(THE LOVERS IN THE ISLAND.)

It was the cooling hour just when the rounded Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded, Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still, With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill Upon the other, and the rosy sky

With one star sparkling through it like an eye.

And thus they wandered forth, and hand in hand,
Over the shining pebbles and the shells,
Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand,
And in the worn and wild receptacles

Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd,
In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells,
They turn'd to rest; and, each clasp'd by an arm,
Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm.

THE MEETING.

They were alone, but not alone as they

Who shut in chambers think it loneliness; The silent ocean, and the starlight bay,

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The twilight glow which momently grew less,
The voiceless sands, the dropping caves, that lay
Around them, made them to each other press,
As if there were no life beneath the sky
Save theirs, and that their life could never die.

They feared no eyes nor ears on that lone beach,
They felt no terrors from the night, they were
All in all to each other: though their speech
Was broken words they thought a language
there,-

And all the burning tongues the passions teach,
Found in one sigh the best interpreter

Of nature's oracle-first love-that all

Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall.

Lord Byron.

THE MEETING.

THE old coach-road thro' a common of furze,
With knolls of pines, ran white :

Berries of autumn, with thistles and burrs,
And spider-threads, droop'd in the light.

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THE MEETING.

The light in a thin blue veil peer'd sick,
The sheep grazed close and still;
The smoke of a farm by a yellow rick
Curl'd lazily under a hill.

No fly shook the round of the silver net,
No insect the swift bird chased;
Only two travellers moved and met
Across that hazy waste.

One was a girl with a babe that throve,
Her ruin and her bliss;

One was a youth with a lawless love,
Who claspt it the more for this.

The girl for her babe humm'd prayerful speech, The youth for his love did pray;

Each cast a wistful look on each,

And either went their

way.

George Meredith.

THE Sun is warm, the sky is clear,

The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent light; The breath of the moist air is light, Around its unexpanded buds;

Like many a voice of one delight,

The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple seaweeds strown, I see the waves upon the shore,

. Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown:

I sit upon the sands alone,

The lightning of the noontide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

Alas! I have nor hope, nor health,
Nor peace within, nor calm around,
Nor that content, surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found

And walked with inward glory crowned—
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround—

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;

To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

E'en as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care

Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air

My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.