This Striding-place is called Tue Strip,

To aid a covert purpose, cried-0 ye
A name which it took of yore:

Approaching waters of the deep, that share
A thousand years hath it borne that name, With this green isle my fortupes, come not where
And shall a thousand more.

Your Master's throne is set !»- Absurd decree!

A mandate uttered to the foaming sea And hither is young Romilly come,

Is to its motion less than wanton air. And what may now forbid

- Then Canute, rising from the invaded Throne, That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,

Said to his servile Courtiers, « Poor the reach, Shall bound across THE STRID?

The undisguised extent, of mortal sway!

lle only is a king, and he alone He sprang in glce,- for what cared he

Deserves the name (this truth the billows preach) That the River was strong, and the rocks were stecp? Whose everlasting law, sea, earth, and heaven obey.» -But the Greyhound in the leash hung back, This just reproof the prosperous

Dane And checked him in his leap.

Drew, from the influx of the Main,

For some whose rugged northern mouths would straia The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,

At oriental flattery; And strangled by a merciless force;

And Canute (truth more worthy to be known) For never more was young Romilly seen

From that time forth did for his brows disown Till he rose a lifeless Corse.

The osientatious symbol of a Crown;

Esteeming earthly royalty
Now there is stillness in the Vale,

Contemptible and vain.
And deep unspeaking sorrow:
Wharf shall be to pitying hearts

Now hear what one of elder days,
A name more sad than Yarrow.

Rich theme of England's fondest praise,

ller darling Alfred, might have spoken; If for a Lover the Lady wept,

To cheer the remnant of bis host A solace she might borrow

When he was driven from coast to coast, From death, and from the passion of death; Distressed and harassed, but with mind unbroken : Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.

« My faithful Followers, lo! the tide is spent;

That rose, and steadily advanced to fill She weeps not for the wedding-day

The shores and channels, working Nature's will Which was to be to-morrow :

Among the mazy streams that backward went, ller hope was a farther-looking hope,

And in the sluggish pools where ships are pent : And hers is a Mother's sorrow.

And now, its task performed, the Flood stands still

At the green base of many an inland hill, 1 He was a Tree that stood alone,

In placid beauty and sublime content! And proudly did its branches wave;

Such the repose that Sage and Hero find; And the Root of this delightful Tree

Such measured rest the sedulous and good Was in her Husband's grave!

Of humbler pame; whose souls do, like the flood

Of Ocean, press right on; or gently wind, Long, long in darkness did she sit,

Neither to be diverted nor withstood, And her first words were, « Let there be

Until they reach the bounds by Heaven assigned.» In Bolloy, on the field of Wharf, A stately Priory!»

« A little onward lend thy guiding hand The stately Priory was reared;

To these dark steps, a little further on!» And Wharf, as he moved along,

- What trick of memory to my voice hath brought To Matins joined a mournful voice,

This mournful iteration? For though Time, Nor failed at Even-song.

| The Conqueror, crowns the Conquered, on this brow

Planting his favourite silver diadem,
And the Lady prayed in heaviness

Nor he, nor minister of his-intent
That looked not for relief!

To run before him, hath enrolled me yet,
Bat slowly did her succour come,

Though not unmenaced, among those who lean
and a patience to her grief.

Upon a living staff, with borrowed sight..

-O my Antigone, beloved child!
Oh! there is never sorrow of heart

Should that day come-but bark! the birds salute
That shall lack a timely end,

The cheerful dawn, brightening for me the east;
If but to God we turn, and ask

For me, thy natural Leader, once again
Of Him to be our Friend!

Impatient to conduct thee, not as erst
A tottering Infant, with compliant stoop

From flower to flower supported; but to curb 1 A FACT, AND AN IMAGINATION; Thy nymph-like step swift-bounding o'er the lawn,

Along the loose rocks, or the slippery verge
OR, CANUTE AND ALFRED.

of foaming torrent. - From thy orisons i The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,

Come forth; and, while the morning air is yet | Hustering a face of haughty sovereignty,

Transparent as the soul of innocent youth,

Spear and

Fell round him in the grove of Academe,

Like Auster whirling to and fro,
Softening their inbred dignity austere ;-

His force on Caspian foam to try;
That he, not too elate

Or Boreas when he scours the snow
With self-sufficing solitude,

That skins the plains of Thessaly,
But with majestic lowliness endued,

Or when aloft on Mænalus he stops
Might in the universal bosom reigu,

His flight, mid eddying pine-tree tops!
And from affectionate observance gain
Help, under every change of adverse fate.

So, but from coil less sigo of profit reaping,

The sullen Spectre to her purpose bowed, Five thousand warriors-0 the rapturous day!

Sweeping-vehemently sweepingEach crowned with flowers, and armed with

No pause admitted, no design avowed ! shield,

« Avaunt, inexplicable Guest!-avaunt,»

Exclaimed the Chieftain-« Let me rather see
Or ruder weapon which their course might yield,
To Syracuse advance in bright array.

The coronal that coiling vipers make;
Who leads them on ?- The anxious People see

The torch that flames with many a lurid dake, Long-exiled Dion marching at their head,

And the long train of doleful pageantry He also crowned with flowers of Sicily,

Which they behold, whom vengeful Furies haunt; And in a white, far-beaming, corslet clad!

Who, while they struggle from the scourge to llee,

Move where the blasted soil is not unworn,
Pure transport undisturbed by doubt or fcar
The Gazers feel; and, rushing to the plain,

And, in their anguish, bear whatother minds þave borte!
Salute those Strangers as a holy train
Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear)

But Shapes that come not at an carthly call, That brought their precious liberty again.

Will not depart when mortal voices bid; Lo! when the gates are entered, on each band,

Lords of the visionary Eye whose lid

Once raised, remains agliast and will not fall!
Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine

Ye Gods, thought He, that servile Implement
In seemly order stand;
On tables set, as if for rites divine ;-

Obeys a mystical intent!

Your Minister would brush away
And, as the great Deliverer marches by,
He looks on festal ground with fruits bestrown;

The spots that to my soul adhere;
And flowers are on his person thrown

but should she labour night and day, In boundless prodigality;

They will not, cannot disappear;
Nor doth the general voice abstain from prayer,

Whence angry perturbations, and that look
Invoking Dion's tutelary care,

Which no Philosophy can brook!
As if a very Deity he were !

IIl-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built

Upon the ruins of thy Glorious name; Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn

Wbo, through the portal of one momcot's guilt, Illyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn!

Pursue thee with their deadly aim! Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads

( matchless perfidy! portentous lust Your once-sweet memory, studious walks and shades !

Of monstrous crime!--that horror-striking blade, For him who to divinity aspired,

Drawn in defiance of the Gods, hath laid Not on the breath of popular applause,

The noble Syracusan low in dust! But through dependence on the sacred laws

Shudder the walls—the marble city weplFramed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired,

And sylvan places heaved a pensive sigh; Intent to trace the ideal path of right

But in calm peace the appointed Victim slept, (More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with As he had fallen iu magnanimity: stars)

Of spirit loo capacious lo require Which Dion learned to measure with delight;

That Destiny her course should change; 100 just But he hath overleaped the eternal bars;

To his owo native greatness to desire And, following guides whose craft holds no consent

That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust. With auclit that brcatbes the ethereal element,

So were the hopeless troubles, that involved Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, The soul of Dion, instautly dissolved. Unjustly shed, though for the public good.

Released from life and cares of princely state, Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain, lle left this moral crafted on his Fate, Hollow excuses, and triumphant pain;

« Him only pleasure leads, and peace attends, And oft his cogitations sink as low

Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends, As, through the abysses of a joyless heart,

Wlose means are fair and spotless as his ends. »
The leaviest plummet of despair can go ;
But whence that sudden check ? that fearful start!

He lears an uncouth sound
Anon his lifted eyes

MEMORY
Saw at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound,
A Shape of inore than mortal size

A pen-10 register; a key-
And hideous aspect, stalking round and round !

That winds through secret wards;
A woman's garb the Phantom wore,

Are well assiqued to Memory
And fiercely swept the marble floor, -

Riy allegoric Cards.