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THE BAY OF NAPLES.

Still morns to stiller evenings creep,

And day and night and day go by;
Here the stillness is most deep.

And the ruins, lapsed again
Into Nature's wide domain,
Sow themselves with seed and grain,

As day and night and day go by,
And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

Here fresh funeral tears were shed;
And now the graves are also dead;
And suckers from the ash-tree spread,

As day and night and day go by,
And stars move calmly overhead.

W. ALLINGHAM.

THE BAY OF NAPLES.

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,

The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear

The purple noon's transparent light: The breath of the moist air is light,

Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight,

The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude’s.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore,

Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown ; I sit upon the sands alone,

The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

Alas ! I have nor hope nor health,

Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth

The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned —

Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround -

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

Yet now despair itself is mild,

Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child,

And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear,

Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air

My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

Some might lament that I were cold,

As I when this sweet day is gone,

FISHER'S SONG.

Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,

They might lament — for I am one

Whom men love not, - and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun

Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.

SHELLEY.

FISHER'S SONG.

Up and down, all day long,
Life glides by us, like our song ;

In our little fisher-boat,

On the restless sea we float,
Up and down, all day long,
Life glides by us, like our song.

Far from care, far from pain,
Far from thoughts of greedy gain,

Calmly, cheerfully we ride

Over life's tempestuous tide,
Far from care, far from pain,
Far from thoughts of greedy gain.

From the German.

SONG.

Rushes lean over the water,

Shells lie on the shore,
And thou, the blue Ocean's daughter,

Sleep'st soft in the song of its roar.

Clouds sail over the ocean,

White gusts fleck its calm, But never its wildest motion

Thy beautiful rest should harm.

White feet on the edge of the billow

Mock its smooth-seething cream ; Hard ribs of beach-sand thy pillow,

And a noble lover thy dream.

Like tangles of sea-weed streaming

Over a perfect pearl,
Thy fair hair fringes thy dreaming,
O sleeping Lido girl !

G. W. CURTIS.

THE CORAL GROVE.

DEEP in the wave is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove,
Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet with falling dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
Far down in the green and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,
And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow ;
From coral rocks the sea-plants lift
Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and the waves are absent there,
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air :
There, with its waving blade of green,
The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen
To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter :
There, with a light and easy motion,
The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea ;
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean
Are bending like corn on the upland lea :

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