For Love is wiser than Ambition.

Queen and thou, lofty triumvir, fare ye well.

And then I heard the sullen waters roar,
And saw them cast their surf upon the strand,
And then rebounding toward some far-seen land,
They washed and washed its melancholy shore :
And the territic spirits, bred

In the sea-caverns, moved by those fierce jars,
Rose up like giants from their watery bed,
And shook their silver hair against the stars.
Then, bursts like thunder-joyous outcries wild-
Sounds as from trumpets, and from drums,
And music, like the lulling noise that comes

From nurses when they hush their charge to sleep,
Came in confusion from the deep.

Methought one told me that a child

Was that night unto the great Neptune born;
And then old Triton blew his curled horn,

And the Leviathan lashed the foaming seas,

And the wanton Nereides

Came up like phantoms from their coral halls, And laughed and sung like tipsy Bacchanals,

Till all the fury of the ocean broke

Upon my ear

-I trembled and awoke.

CROMWELL.

SOMEWHAT apart, but undistinguish'd all
From those around, sate Cromwell. In his eye
Collected, peered deceit: yet withal blazed
A stern and steady fire: half hypocrite

And zealot half was he, and had become

Perchance, but that the dawning light then shone,
A dark inquisitor, and fit to share

Those works of fire, whereby the cowled monk
Was wont convince the writhing heretic.

-Silent at first

At last he slowly rose.

He stood as night: gloomy his brow, but touch'd

And elevate by fanatic flame, that rose

Far from the heart. Like some dark rock, whose rifts Hold nitrous grain, whereon the lightning fires

I

Have glanced, and left a pale and livid light,

So he, some corporal nerve being struck, stood there Glaring, but cold and pitiless.-Even hope

(The brightest angel whom the heavens have given To lead and cheer us onwards) shrank aghast

From that stern look despairing.

It is perhaps a fable: yet the hind

Tells it with reverence, and at times I deem
The tale allied to truth. They say yon brook
That circles with its silver arms that grove
Of forest trees, is-haunted: nay, you smile;
But I was born beside it, and through life,
Aye, 'midst the jarrings of this bitter world,
In pain, in calumny, my mind hath dwelt
Upon this stream as on some holy thought.
See where it wanders from its mossy cave,
And toward the dark wood, like a bashful thing
Surprised, runs trembling as for succour.

Look!

Such streams as these did Dian love, and such

Naiads of old frequented. Still its face