The west-sea's goddess in a crimson robe,
 Her temples circled with a coral wreath,
Waited her love, the lightener of earth's globe:
 The wanton wind did on her bosom breathe;
The nymphs of springs did hallow'd water pour;
Whate'er was cold help'd to make cool her bower.

And now the fiery horses of the Sun
 Were from their golden-flaming car untrac'd,
And all the glory of the day was done,
 Save here and there some light moon-clouds enchas'd,
A parti-colour'd canopy did spread
Over the Sun and Thetis' amorous bed.

By Sunium's rock I took my way
Along the blue Ã?gean sea,
That bright in golden sunset lay
Round the fair islands of the free:
A form of more than mortal mould
On the high rock sublimely rose;
The bosses of her buckler rolled
Like eyes of lightning on her foes:
I looked, — the blue-eyed goddess there
Stood glorious in the evening air.

She stood and raised her brazen lance,
That glittered like a meteor's beam;
Its light below in quivering dance
Flashed gayly on the ocean stream:
Round her tall casque her plumy crest

A blanket low and leaden,
Though rent across the west,
Whose darkness seems to deaden
The city to its rest;
A sunset white and staring
On cloud-wrecks far away —
And haggard house-walls glaring
A farewell to the day.

A light on tower and steeple,
Where sun no longer shines —
My people, O my people!
Rise up and read the signs!
Low looms the nearer high line
(No sign of star or moon),
The horseman on the skyline
Rode hard this afternoon!

(Is he — and who shall know it? —
The spectre of a scout?

Towering rocks rending the sky asunder,
A trelliswork of trees barring the sun.
Into the shadowy gorge spring blossom is falling,
On the cold crags lingers the summer snow.

Lion-race in your true Nobility,
In fortitude, and magnanimity;
On whom reflecting, we must needs behold
New acted, many virtues that are old,
Ever though like a Lion fierce you be,
Live honour'd, let your true humanity;
Loud let your mercy lustre to your life,
Chuse Lion courage, against these, who briefe
Raging against you, would your hurt attempt;
And Lion -like have such in great contempt,
Nevertheles as Lyons will not kill
Fiercely, those who are prostrate to their will,
In pittie pat doning and supplying them;

All live and move to the poetic eye.
The winds have voices, and the stars of night
Are spirits throned in brightness, keeping watch
O'er earth and its inhabitants; the clouds,
That gird the sun with glory, are a train,
In panoply of gold around him set,
To guard his morning and his evening throne.
The elements are instruments, employed
By unseen hands, to work their sovereign will.
They do their bidding; — when the storm goes forth,
'T is but the thunderer's car, whereon he rides,
Aloft in triumph, o'er our prostrate heads.

There is a calm lagoon,
Hid in the bosom of a cypress grove;
Around deep shade, above
The tropic sun pours down the heat of noon.
The aged fathers of the forest wave
Their giant arms athwart the gloom below,
And as the winds in fitful breathing blow,
Their rush is like the tide's resounding flow,
Or sighs above a maiden's early grave.
The long moss hangs its hair,
In hoary festoons, on from tree to tree:
Lianas, twining there,
Ramble around the forest, wild and free;
They wave their bowering canopy,

In sacred stories we recorded finde
Of Gidean poore, also in humble minde,
How God rais'd him, and set him up on Hy ,
Newly his Israel so to save thereby.

Doubtfull he was, his faith God did increase,
In wetting and in drying of his fleece.
Great Lord, since you are then advanced Hy ,
Be by in grace, in Gideous valiancy,
In courage let your Magnitude appeare,
Ever to be accounced, great, good, Peere.

I.

We ask no flowers to deck thy tomb;
Thy name, in purer light, shall bloom,
When every flower of earth is dead,
And all that bloom below are fled.

To thee the light of mind was given,
The centre of thy soul was heaven;
In early youth, the spirit came,
And wrapped thee in its wings of flame.

The lambent light that round thee flowed
Rose to its high and bright abode,
And bore thy restless eye afar,
To read the fate of sun and star.

(T HE “V INCENNES ”)

'Twas the glowing log of a picnic fire where a red light should not be,
Or the curtained glow of a sick-room light in a window that faced the sea.
But the Manly lights seemed the Sydney lights, and the bluffs as the “Heads” were seen;
And the Manly beach was the channel then—and the captain steered between.

The croakers said with a shoulder shrug, and a careless, know-all glance:—
“You might pull out her stem, or pull out her stern—but she'll sail no more for France!”