tly up,
Gleams through the tide profound
The King of Thule's cup.

Athwart the weedy swirl
Brilliant, the waves upon,
Shine Cleopatra's pearl,
And ring of Solomon.

The crown to ocean cast,
That Schiller showed to us,
Still under sea caught fast,
Beams clear and luminous.

A magic in that gaze
Draws me, mad venturer!
Thus mermaid's magic ways
Drew Harold Haarfager.

And all my soul unquelled
Adown the gulf betrayed
Dives, to the quest impelled
Of some elusive shade.

The siren fitfully
Displays her body's gleam,
Her breast and arms that ply
Through waves of amorous dream.

The water heaves and falls,
Like breasts with passion's breath.
The breeze insistent calls
To me, and murmureth:

_"Come to my pearly bed!
My ocean arms shall slip
About thee: salt shall spread
To honey on thy lip!_

_Oh, let the billows link
Above us! Thou shalt, warm,
From cup of kisses drink
Oblivion of the storm!"_

Thus sighs the glance that sweeps
From out those sea-blue gates,
Till heart down treacherous deeps
The hymen consummates.

THE TOREADOR'S SERENADE

RONDALLA

Child with airs imperial,
Dove with falcon's eyes for me
Whom thou hatest,--come I shall
Underneath thy balcony!

There, my foot upon the stone,
I shall twang my chords with grace,
Till thy window-pane hath shone
With thy lamplight and thy face.

Let no lad with his guitar
Strum adown the bordering ways.
Mine the road to watch and bar,
Mine alone to sing thy praise.

Let the first my courage brave.
He shall lose his ears, egad!
Who shall howl his love and rave
In a couplet good or bad.

Restless doth my dagger lie.
Come! who'll venture its rebuff?
Who would wear for every sigh
Blood's red flower upon his ruff?

Blood grows weary of its veins;
For it yearns to be displayed.
Night is ominous with rains.
Haste, ye cowards, back to shade!

On, thou braggart, else aroint!
Well thy forearm cover thou.
On! and with my dagger's point
Let me write upon thy brow.

Let them come, alone, in mass:
Firm of foot I bide my place.
For thy glory, as they pass,
Would I slit each paltry face.

O'er the gutter ere thy clear,
Snowy feet shall be defiled,
By the Rood! a bridge I'll rear
With the bones of gallants wild.

I would slay, thy love to wear,
Any foe, yea, even proud
Satan's very self to dare,
So thy sheets became my shroud.

Sightless window, deafened door!
Wilt thou never heed my sounds?
Like a wounded bull I roar,
Madde