Fringilla. Richard Doddridge Blackmore

           With despair's mute self-reliance,

           She accepted death's affiance;

           She, who hath no home or rest,

           Shrank not from the river's breast.

           Haply there she shall discover

             Father, lost in wilds unknown,

           Mother slain, and youthful lover,

             Seen as yet in dreams alone.

           Ha! sweet maid, what sudden vision

           Hath dispelled thy cold derision?

           What new picture hast thou seen,

           Of a world that might have been?

           From Mount Seir, Duke Iram roveth,

             Three renewals of the moon:

           To see Egypt him behoveth,

             Ere his life be past its noon.

           Soul, and mind, at first fell under

           Flat discomfiture of wonder,

           With the Nile before him spread,

           Temple-crowned, and tempest-fed!

           Yet a nobler creed he owneth,

             Than to worship things of space:

           One true God his heart enthroneth

             Heart that throbs with Esau's race.

           Thus he stood, with calm eyes scorning

           Idols, priests, and their adorning;

           Seeing, e'en in nature's show,

           Him alone, who made it so.

           "God of Abraham, our Father,

             Earth, and heaven, and all we see,

           Are but gifts of thine, to gather

             Us, thy children, back to Thee.

           "All the grandeur spread before us,

           All the miracles shed o'er us,

           Echoes of the voice above,

           Tokens of a Father's love."

           While of heaven his heart indited,

             And his dark eyes swept the crowd,

           Sudden on the maid they lighted,

             Mild and haughty, meek and proud.

           Rapid as the flash of sabre,

           Strong as giant's toss of caber,

           Sure as victor's grasp of goal,

           Came the love-stroke through his soul

           Gently she, her eyes recalling,

             Felt that Heaven had touched their flight,

           Peeped again, through lashes falling,

             Blushed, and shrank, and shunned the light

           Ah, what booteth sweet illusion,

           Fluttering glance, and soft suffusion,

           Bliss unknown, but felt in sighs,

           Breast, that shrinks at its own rise?

           She, who is the Nile's devoted,

             Courted with a watery smile;

           Her betrothal duly noted

             By the bridesmaid Crocodile!

           So she bowed her forehead lowly,

           Tightened her tiara holy;

           And, with every sigh suppressed,

           Clasped her hands on passion's breast.

           Twice the moon hath waxed and wasted,

             Lavish of her dew-bright horn;

             And the wheeling sun hath hasted

           Fifty days, towards Capricorn.

           Thebes, and all the Misric nation,

           Float upon the inundation;

           Each man shouts and laughs, before

           Landing at his own house door.

           There the good wife doth return it,

             Grumbling, as she shows the dish,

           Chervil, basil, chives, and burnet

             Feed, instead of seasoning, fish.

           Palm trees, grouped upon the highland,

           Here and there make pleasant island;

           On the bark some wag hath wrote—

           "Who would fly, when he can float?"

           Udder'd cows are standing—pensive,

             Not belonging to that ilk;

           How shall horn, or tail defensive,

             Keep the water from their milk?

           Lo, the black swan, paddling slowly,

           Pintail ducks, and sheldrakes holy,

           Nile-goose flaked, and herons gray,

           Silver-voiced at fall of day!

           Flood hath swallowed dikes and hedges,

             Lately by Sesostris planned;

           Till, like ropes, its matted edges

             Quiver on the desert sand.

           Then each farmer, brisk and mellow,

           Graspeth by the hand his fellow;

           And, as one gone labour-proof,

           Shakes his head at the