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The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony
Swells up, and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear :
Ride on ! the prize is near.”
By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
Until I find the holy Grail.
Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder town
Met me walking on yonder way, 6 And have you
lost your heart ? ” she said ; “And are you married yet, Edward Gray ?”
Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me:
Bitterly weeping I turn'd away : “Sweet Emma Moreland, love no more
Can touch the heart of Edward Gray.
“ 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 : Fill'd 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
Whisper'd, Listen to my despair : I repent me of all I did :
Speak a little, Ellen Adair!'
“ Then I took a pencil, and wrote
On the mossy stone, as I lay, "Here lies the body of Ellen Adair ;
And here the heart of Edward Gray!'
“ 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 turn'd away: There lies the body of Ellen Adair !
And there the heart of Edward Gray!”
WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE.
MADE AT THE COCK.
O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock,
To which I most resort,
How goes the time? 'Tis five o'clock.
Go fetch a pint of port:
But let it not be such as that
You set before chance-comers,
On Lusitanian summers.
No vain libation to the Muse,
But may she still be kind,
Her influence on the mind,