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There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair

To dwell a weeping hermit there!

Collins, 1746.

WHERE shall the lover rest

Whom the fates sever

From his true maiden's breast,

Parted for ever?

Where through groves deep and high

Sounds the far billow,

Where early violets die

Under the willow :

Eleu loro!

Soft shall be his pillow.

There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,

Scarce are boughs waving;

There thy rest shalt thou take,

Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,

Never, O never!

Eleu loro!

Never, O never!

Where shall the traitor rest,

He, the deceiver,

Who could win maiden's breast,

Ruin, and leave her ?



In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying.
Eleu loro!

There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false-hearted;

His warm blood the wolf shall lap,

Ere life be parted ;
Shame and dishonour sit

By his grave ever ;
Blessing shall hallow it,—
Never, O never!

Eleu loro!

Never, O never!

Ariel Sings


FULL fathom five thy father lies :
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :

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Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.



UNDER the wide and starry sky

Dig the grave and let me lie.

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

burden] refrain heard sung by the sea-nymphs.



This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Stevenson, 1884.


STAY, stay at home, my heart, and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,

For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble and full of care;

To stay at home is best.

Weary and homesick and distress'd,
They wander east, they wander west,

And are baffled and beaten and blown about
By the winds of the wilderness of doubt;
To stay at home is best.

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest;
The bird is safest in its nest;

O'er all that flutter their wings and fly
A hawk is hovering in the sky;

To stay at home is best.

Lucy Ashton's Song


Look not thou on beauty's charming ;
Sit thou still when kings are arming;
Taste not when the wine-cup glistens ;
Speak not when the people listens ;
Stop thine ear against the singer;
From the red gold keep thy finger;
Vacant heart and hand and eye,
Easy live and quiet die.



Nurse's Song

WHEN the voices of children are heard on the green,

And laughing is heard on the hill,

My heart is at rest within my breast,

And everything else is still.

'Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,


And the dews of night arise;

Come, come, leave off play, and let us away

Till the morning appears in the skies.'

No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,

And we cannot go to sleep;

Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,

And the hills are all cover'd with sheep.'

'Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.'

The little ones leapèd and shouted and laugh'd
And all the hills echoèd.

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THE sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower,

In heaven's high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.

Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;

took] common in dialect and vulgar speech for taken.
moves] see note at end of book.



Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are cover'd warm;

They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm.
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed. . .

Cradle Song

SWEET and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;



my little one, while

my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon :

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.


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