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VU.

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 :
“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-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,

Until I find the holy Grail.

EDWARD GRAY.

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.

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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.

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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,
But such whose father-grape grew fat

On Lusitanian summers.

No vain libation to the Muse,

But may she still be kind,
And whisper lovely words, and use

Her influence on the mind,

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