FOURTH BOOK. The king’s lone road, his visit, h… Were not unknown to Dalica, nor l… The wondrous tale from royal ears… When the young queen had heard who…

Along this coast I led the vacant… To the lone sunshine on the uneven… And nipt the stubborn grass and ju… With one unconscious inobservant h… While crept the other by degrees m…

Soon, O Ianthe! life is o’er, And sooner beauty’s heavenly smile… Grant only (and I ask no more), Let love remain that little while.

I sing the fates of Gebir. He had… Among those mountain—caverns which… His labours yet, vast halls and fl… Nor have forgotten their old maste… Though severed from his people her…

‘Do you remember me? or are you pr… Lightly advancing thro’ her star—t… Ianthe said, and look’d into my ey… ‘A yes, a yes to both: for Memory Where you but once have been must…

Death stands above me, whispering… I know not what into my ear: Of his strange language all I kno… Is, there is not a word of fear.

I wander o’er the sandy heath Where the white rush waves high, Where adders close before me wreat… And tawny kites sail screaming by. Alone I wander; I alone

On, for the spirit of that matchle… Whom Nature led throughout her wh… While he embodied breathed etheria… Though panting in the play—hour of… I drank of Avon too, a dangerous…

I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson, Come and share my haunch of veniso… I have too a bin of claret, Good, but better when you share it… Tho’ 'tis only a small bin,

Mild is the parting year, and swee… The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its glo…

I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson, Come and share my haunch of veniso… I have too a bin of claret, Good, but better when you share it… Tho’ 'tis only a small bin,

Thou hast not rais’d, Ianthe, suc… In any breast as thou hast rais’d… No wandering meteor now, no marshy… Leads on my steps, but lofty, but… And, if thou chillest me, as chill…

Very true, the linnets sing Sweetest in the leaves of spring: You have found in all these leaves That which changes and deceives, And, to pine by sun or star,

One lovely name adorns my song, And, dwelling in the heart, Forever falters at the tongue, And trembles to depart.

Who will away to Athens with me?… Loves choral songs and maidens cro… Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hois… I promise ye, as many as are here, Ye shall not, while ye tarry with…