heaven and blest,
"Love burns up the world to a void of all unrest."

And there we twain are left, and no more work we need:
"And I am left alone, and who my work shall heed?"

Ah! I praise thee, Love, for utter joyance won!
"And is my praise nought worth for all my life undone?"

THE BURGHERS' BATTLE.

Thick rise the spear-shafts o'er the land
That erst the harvest bore;
The sword is heavy in the hand,
_And we return no more_.
The light wind waves the Ruddy Fox,
Our banner of the war,
And ripples in the Running Ox,
_And we return no more_.
Across our stubble acres now
The teams go four and four;
But out-worn elders guide the plough,
_And we return no more_.
And now the women heavy-eyed
Turn through the open door
From gazing down the highway wide,
_Where we return no more_.
The shadows of the fruited close
Dapple the feast-hall floor;
There lie our dogs and dream and doze,
_And we return no more_.
Down from the minster tower to-day
Fall the soft chimes of yore
Amidst the chattering jackdaws' play:
_And we return no more_.
But underneath the streets are still;
Noon, and the market's o'er!
Back go the goodwives o'er the hill;
_For we return no more_.
What merchant to our gates shall come?
What wise man bring us lore?
What abbot ride away to Rome,
_Now we return no more_?
What mayor shall rule the hall we built?
Whose scarlet sweep the floor?
What judge shall doom the robber's guilt,
_Now we return no more_?
New houses in the streets shall rise
Where builded we before,
Of other stone wrought otherwise;
_For we return no more_.
And crops shall cover field and hill
Unlike what once they bore,
And all be done without our will,
_Now we return no more_.
Look up! the arrows streak the sky,
The horns of battle roar;
The long spears lower and draw nigh,
_And we return no more_.
Remember how beside the wain,
We spoke the word of war,
And sowed this harvest of the plain,
_And we return no more_.
Lay spears about the Ruddy Fox!
The days of old are o'er;
Heave sword about the Running Ox!
_For we return no more_.

HOPE DIETH: LOVE LIVETH.

Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro' the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood