Your aged eyes will see in mine all they've still shown to you,

And mine in yours all they have seen since this old ring was new.

Mild is Maire bhan astór,
Mine is Maire bhan astór,
Saints will watch about the door
Of my Maire bhan astór.

THOMAS DAVIS.

And O, when death shall come at last to bid me to my rest,

ADAM TO EVE.

O FAIREST of creation, last and best
Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote!
Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress
The strict forbiddance, how to violate

The sacred fruit forbidden! Some curséd fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined, for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die.
How can I live without thee, how forego
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,
To live again in these wild woods forlorn?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart; no, no, I feel
The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

And too impatiently stamped with your foot:
Yet I insisted, yet you answered not;
But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you : So I did;
Fearing to strengthen that impatience,
Which seemed too much enkindled; and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humor,
Which sometime hath his hour with every

man.

It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
And, could it work so much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevailed on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
BRU. I am not well in health, and that is
all.

POR. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
BRU. Why, so I do: - good Portia, go to bed.
POR. Is Brutus sick, - and is it physical
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humors
Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurgéd air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
You have some sick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: And upon my knees
I charm you, by my once commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
Why you are heavy; and what men to-night
Have had resort to you, for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
BRU.

Kneel not, gentle Portia.

POR. I should not need, if you were gentle
Brutus.

Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it expected, I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself
But, as it were, in sort or limitation,
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the

suburbs

Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

BRU. You are my true and honorable wife; As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad heart.

POR. If this were true, then should I know this secret.

I grant I am a woman; but, withal,

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:

I grant I am a woman; but, withal,

A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.

At which he rose up in his anger,

you no longer are fair!

snow on high hills,

hateful, I swear."

gles, endures, and fulfils.

"You grew, sir, pale to impertinence, once when I showed you a ring.

You kissed my fan when I dropped it. No matter! I've broken the thing.

XIX.

"You did me the honor, perhaps, to be moved at my side now and then

In the senses, - a vice, I have heard, which is common to beasts and some men.

THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.

1

["In the Parish of St. Neots, Cornwall, is a well, arched over with the robes of four kinds of trees, withy, oak, elm, and ash, and dedicated to St. Keyne. The reported virtue of the water is this, that, whether husband or wife first drink thereof, they get the mastery thereby." - FULLER.]

A WELL there is in the West country,
And a clearer one never was seen ;
There is not a wife in the West country
But has heard of the well of St. Keyne.

An oak and an elm tree stand beside,
And behind does an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne;
Pleasant it was to his eye,

For from cock-crow he had been travelling, And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,

For thirsty and hot was he,

And he sat down upon the bank,

Under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the nighboring town

At the well to fill his pail,

On the well-side he rested it,

And bade the stranger hail.

"Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he, "For an if thou hast a wife,

The happiest draught thou hast drank this day That ever thou didst in thy life.

"Or has your good woman, if one you have, In Cornwall ever been?

For an if she have, I'll venture my life

She has drank of the well of St. Keyne."

"I have left a good woman who never was here," The stranger he made reply;

"But that my draught should be better for that, I pray you answer me why."

"St. Keyne,"quoth the countryman, "manyatime Drank of this crystal well,

And before the angel summoned her
She laid on the water a spell.

"If the husband of this gifted well
Shall drink before his wife,
A happy man thenceforth is he,

For he shall be master for life.

"But if the wife should drink of it first,
Heaven help the husband then !"

The stranger stooped to the well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the waters again.

"You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?" He to the countryman said.

But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, And sheepishly shook his head.

"I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch.

But i' faith, she had been wiser than me,
For she took a bottle to church."

ROBERT SOUTHEY.