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And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
How sweet are looks that ladies bend
To save from shame and thrall:
My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love,
Nor maiden's hand in mine.
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
When down the stormy crescent goes,
I hear a voice, but none are there;
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
A gentle sound, an awful light!
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
When on my goodly charger borne
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
And, ringing, spins from brand and mail;
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
A maiden knight-to me is given
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
I muse on joy that will not cease,
Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armor that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touched, are turned to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky,
Swells up, and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear: "O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on the prize is near." So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-armed I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail.
SWEET Emma Moreland of yonder town Met me walking on yonder way, "And have you lost your heart?" she said; "And are you married yet, Edward Gray?
Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me :
"Ellen Adair she loved me well,
Against her father's and mother's will: To-day I sat for an hour and wept,
By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill.
"Shy she was, and I thought her cold; Thought her proud, and fled over the sea; Filled I was with folly and spite,
When Ellen Adair was dying for me.
"Cruel, cruel the words I said!
Cruelly came they back to-day: "You're too slight and fickle,' I said,
To trouble the heart of Edward Gray.'
"There I put my face in the grass—
"Then I took a pencil, and wrote
"Love may come, and love may go,
And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree: But I will love no more, no more,
Till Ellen Adair come back to me.
"Bitterly wept I over the stone:
Bitterly weeping I turned away:
WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL
MADE AT THE COCK.
O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock,
But let it not be such as that
You set before chance-comers,
No vain libation to the Muse,
To make me write my random rhymes,
I pledge her, and she comes and dips
I pledge her silent at the board;
Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans,
Through many an hour of summer suns
My college friendships glimmer.
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense,
Or that eternal want of pence,