My hand reached for the telephone;
I said Hello and asked for you,
And then, as dumb as any stone,
There was no other word I knew
To say.
What was there now that I could tell,
When I had seen you yesterday?
I had to ask if you were well,
And when your voice gave the reply
It held me, and I could not go.
I could not let us say good-by;
I spoke, of what I do not know —
Of anything to keep you there —
It did not matter what we said,
It did not matter — I did not care —
So that we need not break the thread

There rode through the country three gallants so fine,
They came to the Landlady, hard by the Rhine.

" Landlady, hast thou good ale and good wine?
And how is that beautiful daughter of thine? "

" My ale and my wine are fresh and clear,
But my dear little daughter lies dead on her bier. "

And when they were come to the chamber within,
All cold in her coffin, the maiden was seen.

The first, from her face the death-veil he took,
And looked at her long with a sorrowful look;

I.

While Phyllis is drinking, Love and Wine in alliance,
With forces united, bid resistless defiance;
By the touch of her lips the wine sparkles higher,
And her eyes by her drinking redouble their fire.

II.

Her cheeks glow the brighter, recruiting their colour,
As flowers by sprinkling revive with fresh odour;
Each dart dipp'd in wine gives a wound beyond curing,
And the liquor, like oil, makes the flame more enduring.

III.

Then, Phyllis! begin, let our raptures abound,
And a kiss and a glass be still going round;

The open vision ceases from the land,
God's word becomes more rare, and yet more rare;
Eli, thine eyes wax dim! although thou stand
In God's own house, thou dost not see him there!
He speaks! list, Eli, to the precious word!
Alas, that word is not for such as thee;
Thy sealed ears no voice of God have heard, —
Thy sluggard eyes no open vision see.
Wherefore should not the lamp of God burn out?
The seer of God is blind, and nothing sees!
Who shall light Israel through her clouds of doubt?
Whom shall God call upon in nights like these?

I.

  No mortal tongue can ever tell,
  The horrors of that gloomy night,
 When I hung o'er the brink of hell,
 Expecting soon my wretched flight!

II.

  I felt my burden waste my life,
 While guilt did ev'ry hope devour,
Trembling I stretch'd with groans and strife
  For to escape the dreadful hour.

III.

 But in the mind of all my grief,
 The great Messiah spoke in love;
 His arm appear'd for my relief,
And bid my guilt and sorrows move,

IV.

He pluck'd me from the jaws of hell,

Warm'd by a kindred sense of England's woes,
A Caledonian muse, with pity glows:
From ruin'd hopes a saving moral takes,
And paints th' unhappy , for the happy's sake:
Scotland's new taste our meaning scene supplies,
And a first flight , on tragic pinions , tries,
Brave and long-fam'd in arms, her warlike race
Have trod the fields of death with dauntless grace!
Fierce and untir'd in blood , have nobly dar'd,
And every toil and every danger shar'd:
Now, fir'd by rising arts ; she grasps the Bays ,
And her old cant , like falling stocks , decays:

The rising sun Lysander found,
Shedding tears o'er Phillis' tomb,
Who swore he ne'er would leave the ground,
But pass his life in that dear gloom.

Tearing his hair, the frantic youth
Cry'd, food and raiment I deny;
And with my life shall end my truth,
For love of Phillis will I die.

II.

The radient god made half his tour,
The kine sought shelter from his heat,

Beneath the palace of the king
The gentle shepherd went;
The lady looked with longing eyes
Down from the battlement.

She threw to him a gentle word, —
" Would I might go to thee,
Where on the plain the snow-white flocks,
And bright red flowers I see! "

Thereto the shepherd made reply, —
" O, wouldst thou come to me,
More white would gleam those arms of thine,
More bright thy cheeks would be! "

And now each morn with lingering step,
Still as he passed the place,
He looked with earnest eyes until

I.

O the dead state of Adam's race,
Surrounded with redeeming grace,
Wasting their days, their life and breath,
For shades that lead to endless death.

II.

While Jesus bleeds and dies for them,
And waits and woos to get them home,
They choose in darkness still to dwell,
And laugh the downward road to hell.

III.

Where e'er they go, what e'er they do,
The Lord doth still in love pursue,
Intreating them to turn and live,
With all the blessing he can give.

IV.

But still for some poor empty sound

Cleora has her wish; she weds a peer;
Her weighty train two pages scarce can bear;
Persia and both the Indies must provide
To grace her pomp and gratify her pride:
Of rich brocade a shining robe she wears,
And gems surround her lovely neck like stars.
Drawn by fix grays of the proud Belgian kind,
With a long train of livery beaus behind,
She charms the Park, and sets all hearts on sire,
The ladies' envy and the men's desire.
Beholding thus, " O happy as a queen! "
We cry. But shift the gaudy flatt'ring scene;