Bird of the summering North, Whither away? Fly you so gaily forth Simply to stay Nested in northern bowers Till the late flushing flowers Turn in October hours Ashen and gray? Bear, then, this message, Dove, When you depart, Safe to my northern Love, Quick! Like a dart! Bill her and coo her this Seal of triumphant bliss, One young, immortal kiss, Hot from my heart. Then, in the autumn time, Tailing the pole, From my Love's cooling clime Make me your goal; Flash to this field of Fame, Linked with her darling name, All her concordant flame, Deep from her soul. THE WAR SONG OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. _"By the splendor of God!" was a characteristic oath of William the Conqueror._ By the splendor of God! We come! We come! To fight to the death for Old England's crown, To reign by God's grace or in gore go down. By the splendor of God! We come! We come! Sword in hand, by a King who dares To fight that God and our Right be made Our Right Divine by a bloody blade, Sword in hand, by a King who dares, By a King who dares. By the splendor of God! We come! We come! In swoop for fierce flesh, like a bird of prey, In scent of the blood of the brave to-day, By the splendor of God! We come! We come! Sword in hand, for the Love of God! Since blood is holy and royal wine, Advance! Drink health to the Norman line, Sword in hand, for the Love of God! For the Love of God! By the splendor of God! We come! We come! Beware of the shock of the serried rank! Beware of the brand of the fiery Frank! By the splendor of God! We come! We come! Sword in hand, by the Grace of God, We fight till death for Old England's crown, Till Harold, or We, with our crowns, go down, Sword in hand, by the Grace of God! By the Grace of God! By the splendor of God! We come! We come! To fight to the death for Old England's crown, To reign by God's grace or in gore go down. By the splendor of God! We come! We come! Sword in hand, by a King who dares To fight that God and our Right be made Our Right Divine by a bloody blade, Sword in hand, by a King who dares, By a King who dares! THE LIGHT OF YOUR BEAUTIFUL EYES. As I stroll by the stream where you stray, A beam is reflected afar, Which seems, on the waters, a ray-- The ray from a luminous star. What is it that sweetens my sight, That lightens the leaf-burthened skies? What is it, my Love, but the light,-- The light of your beautiful eyes? As nearer and nearer I roam, In the month of the rosy-mouthed June, What is it that throws round your home The mirage of the mystical moon? What is it that softens my sight, That mellows the marvellous skies? What is it, my Love, but the light,-- The light of your beautiful eyes?