Even he too loves at times the blue lagoon,

And smooths his ruffled mane beneath the moon.

Yes-from the sepulchre we'll gather flowers,

Then feast like spirits in their promised bowers,

Then plunge and revel in the rolling surf,

Then lay our limbs along the tender turf,

And wet and shining from the sportive toil,

Anoint our bodies with the fragrant oil,

And plait our garlands gathered from the grave,

And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave.

But lo! night comes, the Mooa wooes us back,

The sound of mats is heard along our track;

Anon the torchlight-dance shall fling its sheen

In flashings mazes o'er the Marly's green;

And we too will be there; we too re

call

And led him into each recess, and showed

The secret places of their new abode. Nor these alone, for all had been prepared

Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared;

The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo,

The sandal-oil to fence against the dew;

For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread

Born of the fruit; for board the plantain spread

With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore

A banquet in the flesh if covered o'er; The gourd with water recent from the rill,

The ripe banana from the mellow hill;

A pine torch pile to keep undying light;

And she herself as beautiful as night, To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene,

And make their subterranean world

It flapped, it filled, then to the growing gale

Bent its broad arch: her breath began to fail

With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and high,

While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie:

But no! it came not; fast and far away,

The shadow lessened as it cleared the bay.

She gazed, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes,

To watch as for a rainbow in the skies.

On the horizon verged the distant deck, Diminished, dwindled to a very speck

Then vanished. All was ocean, all was joy!

BYRON.

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;

I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead."

"Falsely, falsely have ye done,

O mother," she said, "if this be true,

To keep the best man under the sun So many years from his due."

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,

"But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,

When you are man and wife."

"O mother, mother, mother," she said,

"So strange it seems to me. "Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,

My mother dear, if this be so, And lay your hand upon my head, And bless me, mother, ere I go."

She clad herself in a russet gown,

She was no longer Lady Clare: She went by dale, and she went by down,

With a single rose in her hair.

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought

Leapt up from where she lay, Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, And followed her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:

"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!

Why come you drest like a village maid,

That are the flower of the earth?"