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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:
"O just and faithful knight of God ! Ride on the prize is near.'
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.
SWEET Emma Moreland of yonder town
"And have you lost your heart?" she said;
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 : 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,
But such whose father-grape grew fat
On Lusitanian summers.
No vain libation to the Muse,
may she still be kind,
And whisper lovely words, and use
Her influence on the mind,