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“ For evil news from Mablethorpe,

Of pyrate gaileys warping downe; For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,

They have not spared to wake the towne: But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates flee, Why ring • The Brides of Enderby'?I looked without, and lo! my sonne

Came riding down with might and main: He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again, “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath

Than my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth.) - The old sea wall (he cried) is downe,

The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne

Go sailing uppe the market-place.” He shook as one that looks on death : "God save you, mother !” strait he saith ; " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ?”

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“Good sonne, where Lindis winds away,

With her two bairns I marked her long; And ere yon bells beganne to play

Afar I heard her milking song.”
He looked across the grassy lea,
To right, to left, Ho Enderby!”
They rang “ The Brides of Enderby!"
With that he cried and beat his breast;

For, lo! along the river's bed
A mighty eygre reared his crest,

And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
It swept with thunderous noises loud ;
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud.

And rearing Lindis backward pressed,

Shook all her trembling bankes amaine, Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung uppe her weltering walls again.

Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout
Then beaten foam flew round about
Then all the mighty floods were out.

So farre, so fast the eygre drave,

The heart bad hardly time to beat, Before a shallow seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet. The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea.

Upon the roofe we sat that night,

The noise of bells went sweeping by ; I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and highA lurid mark and dread to see ; And awesome bells they were to mee, That in the dark rang “Enderby.”

They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed ;
And I-my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;
And yet he moaned beneath his breath,
O come in life, or come in death !
O lost! my love, Elizabeth.”

And did'st thou visit him no more?

Thou did’st, thou did'st, my daughter deare; The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear, Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,

That ebbe swept out the flocks to see; A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and me: But each will mourn his own (she saith), And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,
• Cusha ! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews be falling ;.

I shall never hear her song,
“ Cusha ! Cusha !” all along
Where the sunny Lindis floweth,

Goeth, floweth ;
From the meads where melick groweth,
When the water winding down,
Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more
Where the reeds and rushes quiver,

Shiver, quiver;
Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy lonesome shore;

I shall never hear her calling,
“Leave your meadow grasses mellow,

Mellow, mellow;
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow ;
Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow ;

Lightfoot, Whitefoot,
From your clovers lift the head ;
Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow,
Jetty, to the milking shed.”

THE MAY QUEEN.

Tennyson. You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-Year; Of all the glad New-Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day ; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May. There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as

mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline;
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say;
So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break:
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see,
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,-
But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.
He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white,
And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I'm to be Queen o’the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be:
They say his heart is breaking, mother — what is that to me?
There's many a bolder lad ’ill woo me any summer day,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o’the

May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,
And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen ;
For the Shepherd lads on every side ’ill come from far away,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers;
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers ;
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like tire in swamps and

hollows gray, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass ; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

All the valley, mother, ’ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip an l the crowfoot are over all the hill,

And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-Year:
To-morrow ’ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the

May.

NEW-YEAR'S EVE.

If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-Year.
It is the last New-Year that I shall ever see,
Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me.
To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;
And the New Year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.
Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day;
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May;
And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse,
Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.
There's not a flower on all the hills; the frost is on the pane:
I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again:
I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high :
I long to see a flower so before the day I die.
The building rook ’ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree,
And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,
And the swallow ’ill come back again with summer o'er the wave,
But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.
Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of mine,
In the early, early morning the summer sun ’ill shine,
Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill,
When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light
You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night;
When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool
On the ont-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool

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