LOVE'S LAST MESSAGES.

MERRY, merry little stream,

Tell me, hast thou seen my dear?
I left him with an azure dream,
Calmly sleeping on his bier-
But he has filed!

"I passed him in his church-yard bed—
A yew is sighing o'er his head,
And grass-roots mingle with his hair."
What doth he there?

O cruel! can he lie alone?

Or in the arms of one more dear? Or hides he in the bower of stone,

To cause and kiss away my fear?

"He doth not speak, he doth not moan-
Blind, motionless he lies alone;
But, ere the grave-snake fleshed his sting,
This one warm tear he bade me bring
And lay it at thy feet
Among the daisies sweet."

Moonlight whisp'rer, summer air
Songster of the groves above,
Tell the maiden rose I wear

Whether thou hast seen my love.
"This night in heaven I saw him lie,
Discontented with his bliss ;
And on my lips he left this kiss,
For thee to taste and then to die."
THOMAS LOVell Beddoes.

THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL
EYES.

To make my Lady's obsequies

My love a minster wrought,
And, in the chantry, service there
Was sung by doleful thought;
The tapers were of burning sighs,

That light and odor gave;
And sorrows, painted o'er with tears,
Enluminèd her grave;

And round about, in quaintest guise,

Above her lieth spread a tomb

Of gold and sapphires blue:
The gold doth shew her blessedness,

The sapphires mark her true;
For blessedness and truth in her

Were livelily portrayed,

When gracious God with both His hands
Her goodly substance made.

He framed her in such wondrous wise,
She was, to speak without disguise,
The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

No more, no more: my heart doth faint
When I the life recall

Of her, who lived so free from taint,
So virtuous deemed by all—
That in herself was so complete,

I think that she was ta'en
By God to deck His paradise,

And with his saints to reign;
Whom, while on earth, each one did prize
The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

But nought our tears avail, or cries:

All soon or late in death shall sleep; Nor living wight long time may keep The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS (French) Translation of HENRY CARY.

THE BURIAL OF LOVE.

Two dark-eyed maids, at shut of day,
Sat where a river rolled away,
With calm, sad brows and raven hair;
And one was pale and both were fair.

Bring flowers, they sang, bring flowers un
blown;

Bring forest blooms of name unknown;
Bring budding sprays from wood and wild,
To strew the bier of Love, the child.

Close softly, fondly, while ye weep,
His eyes, that death may seem like sleep;
And fold his hands in sign of rest,
His waxen hands, across his breast.

And make his grave where violets hide,
Where star-flowers strew the rivulet's side,

Was carved: "Within this tomb there lies And blue-birds, in the misty spring,

The fairest thing in mortal eyes."

Of cloudless skies and summer sing.

WINIFREDA.

EPITHALAMION.

Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your
echo ring.

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And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,

With your steele darts doe chace from coming neare

Bring with you all the nymphes that you can Be also present here,

heare,

Both of the rivers and the forests greene,
And of the sea that neighbours to her neare;
All with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.
And let them also with them bring in hand
Another gay girland,

For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,
Bound, true-love-wise, with a blue silk

riband.

And let them make great store of bridale posies;

And let them eke bring store of other flowers,

To deck the bridale bowers.

And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,

For feare the stones her tender foot should
wrong,

Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,
And diapred lyke the discolored mead.
Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
For she will waken strayt;

The whiles do ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer, and your
echo ring.

To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your
echo ring.

Wake now, my love, awake; for it is time:
The rosy Morne long since left Tithon's bed,
All ready to her silver coache to clyme;
And Phoebus 'gins to shew his glorious hed.

Hark! how the cheerfull birds do chaunt
theyr laies,

And carroll of love's praise!

The merry larke his mattins sings aloft;
The thrush replyes; the mavis descant

playes;

The ouzell shrills; the ruddock warbles soft:
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this daye's merriment.

Ah! my deare love, why do ye sleepe thus
long?

When meeter were that ye should now awake,
And hearken to the birds' love-learned song,
T'awayt the comming of your joyous make;
The dewy leaves among!

That all the woods them answer, and theyr
For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
echo ring.

Ye nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull My love is now awake out of her dreame;

heed

The silver-scaly trouts do tend full well,

And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed

were

beame,

And greedy pikes which used therein to With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly feed, (Those trouts and pikes all others doe ex- More bright than Hesperus his head doth cell;)

reare.

And ye, likewise, which keepe the rushy Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight,

lake,

Where none do fishes take

Bynd up the locks the which hang scattered
light,

And in his waters, which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the christall bright,
That when you come whereas my love doth
lie

No blemish she may spie.

Helpe quickly her to dight!

But first come, ye fayre Houres, which were

begot

In Jove's sweet paradise of Day and Night;
Which do the seasons of the year allot;
And all that ever in this world is fayre,
Do make and still repayre!

And ye, three handmayds of the Cyprian
queene,

And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe The which do still adorn her beauteous

That on the hoary mountayne used to towre- Helpe to adorn my beautifullest bride;