SONG. OUR boat to the waves go free, By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks, Like the track of the wind on the white snow-flakes; Away! away! 'Tis a path o'er the sea. Blasts may rave!-spread the sail, For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind, And the gray clouds yield to the sunny mind; Fear not we the whirl of the gale. Waves on the beach, and the wild sea-foam, BALLAD. He stood on the rock, And he looked on the sea, And he said of his false Love, 'My Love, where is she?' 'Have they bought her with bracelets And lured her with gold? Is her love for her lover A tale that is told?' From the crest of the wave, Came a voice that cried, 'Save! He stood on the rock, And he looked on the wave, And he said, 'Oh! St. Ulfrid, Who's this that cries, Save!' Then arose from the billow, And two hands that divided As the foam in the moonlight He knew the pale forehead- Was the voice that repeated, 'I come, Love,' he answered;At sunrise next day A fisherman wakened The Priest in the Bay. 'For the soul of a sinner Let masses be said The sin shall be nameless, And nameless the dead.' HENRY TAYLOR. NIGHT AND MORNING. I. THE grey sea and the long black land; Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, II. Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, ROBERT BROWNING. LEANDER SWIMMING. THEN at the flame a torch fair Hero lit, The boy beheld, — beheld it from the sea, Smooth was the sea that night, the lover strong, |