Kwan-kwan go the ospreys,
On the islet in the river
The modest, retiring, virtuous, young lady: —
For our prince a good mate she

Here long, there short, is the duckweed,
To the left, to the right, borne about by the current
The modest, retiring, virtuous, young lady: —
Waking and sleeping, he sought her
He sought her and found her not,
And waking and sleeping he thought about her.
Long he thought; oh! long and anxiously;
On his side, on his back, he turned, and back again.

Here long, there short, is the duckweed;

" I have given my all, " thou sayst, " for human advantage;
But in vain, for I earned enmity only and hate. " —
Shall I explain, my friend, what my relation to man is?
Trust the proverb, which yet never has led me astray.
As for Humanity's self, who can too highly esteem it?
Be it impressed in deeds as to thy soul it appears.
If in the struggle of life some mortal jostle against thee,
Help him, if thou mayst, with a benevolent hand.

All may share thy thoughts: thine own is only thy feeling.
Wouldest thou own him, feel , do not imagine , thy God.

Of late, what time the bear turned round
At midnight in her wonted way,
And men of all sorts slept full sound,
O'ercome with labour of the day:

The God of Love came to my door,
And took the ring, and knocked it hard:
" Who's there, " quoth I, " that knocks so sore?
You break my sleep, my dreams are marred. "

" A little boy, forsooth, " quoth he,
" Dung-wet with rain this moonless night. "
With that methought it pitied me:
I oped the door, and candle light.

And straight a little boy I spied;

The bull by nature hath his horns,
The horse his hoofs, to daunt their foes;
The light-foot hare the hunter scorns;
The lion's teeth his strength disclose.

The fish, by swimming, 'scapes the weel;
The bird, by flight, the fowler's net;
With wisdom man is armed as steel;
Poor women none of these can get.

What have they then? — fair Beauty's grace,
A two-edged sword, a trusty shield;
No force resists a lovely face,
Both fire and sword to Beauty yield.

Of Atreus' sons fain would I write;
And fain of Cadmus would I sing;
My lute is set on Love's delight;
And only Love sounds ev'ry string.

Of late my lute I altered quite,
Both frets and strings for tunes above;
I sung of fierce Alcides' might;
My lute would sound no tune but Love.
Wherefore, ye worthies all, farewell;
No tune but Love my lute can tell.

XLI

But out, alas! for maidens oaths!
When Love puts on his Sunday-clothes
In vain their hearts are chary;
Before three months had gone about
The Lechlade bells were pealing out,
And George was marrying Mary.

XLII

They bought the " Starling and the Thrush
Just out of Bampton-in-the-Bush,
And long they lived together;
For many a cheerful day they throve
Contented in each other's love,
Through sun and stormy weather.

XXXI

Now when next day the news went down
The streets and lanes of Lechlade town,
It brought much consternation;
And as the tale the gossips shared
They duly one and all declared
The death a dispensation.

XXXII

How fortunate he showed in time
His selfish aptitude for crime,
His passions thus revealing!
Much ill of the deceased was said;
But when they knew he was not dead,
A change came o'er the feeling.

XXXIII

XXI

The town one evening seemed to keep
A quiet sort of twilight sleep,
Flushed, scented, calm and airy;
And George, who rode across from far,
Found no one sitting in the bar
But smiling Mistress Mary.

XXII

Long time he sat and nothing said,
But listened to the chatting maid,
Who loved this evening leisure;
It was so dreamy there and sweet,
And she so bright from head to feet,
He could have wept for pleasure.

XXIII

XI

But still he held himself aloof
From every friendly neighbour's roof,
Nor chatted in the village;
The farmers called him proud, for he
Could little in their children see
But imps brought up to pillage.

XII

At harvest-home and country dance
He gave the beauties just a glance,
The calmest of beholders;
The lasses failed his pulse to move:
Then suddenly he fell in love
Right over head and shoulders.

XIII