Back the stately Duchess turned, While the priests and friars chanted, And the swinging incense burned: Thus by feudal rite was earned Greatness for a race undaunted. THE HILLSIDE DOOR. Sometimes within my hand A Spirit puts the silver key Of Fairyland: From the dark, barren heath he beckons me, Till by that hidden hillside door, Where bards have passed before, I seem to stand. The portal opens wide: In, through the wondrous, lighted halls, Voiceless I glide Where tinkling music magically falls, And fair in fountained gardens move The heroes, blest with love And glorified. Then by the meadows green, Down winding walks of elf and fay, I pass unseen: There rest the valiant chieftains wreathed with bay; Here maidens to their lovers cling, And happy minstrels sing, Praising their queen. For where yon pillars are, And birds with tuneful voices call, There shines a star,— The crown she wears, the Fairy Queen of all! Led to that inmost, wooded haunt By maidens ministrant, I halt afar. O joy! she sees me stand Doubting, and calls me near her throne, And waves her wand, As in my dreams, and smiles on me alone. O royal beauty, proud and sweet! I bow me at her feet To kiss that hand: Ah woe! ah, fate malign! By what a rude, revengeful gust, From that fair shrine Which holds my sovran mistress I am thrust! Then comes a mocking voice’s taunt, Crying, _Thou fool, avaunt!_ _She is not thine!_ And I am backward borne By unseen awful hands, and cast, In utter scorn, Forth from that brightness to the midnight blast: Not mine the minstrel-lover’s wreath, But the dark, barren heath, And heart forlorn. AT TWILIGHT. The sunset darkens in the west, The sea-gulls haunt the bay, And far and high the swallows fly To watch the dying day. Now where is she that once with me The rippling waves would list? And O for the song I loved so long, And the darling lips I kist! Yon twinkling sail may whiter gleam Than falcon’s snowy wing, Her lances far the evening-star Beyond the waves may fling; Float on, ah float, enchanted boat, Bear true hearts o’er the main, But I shall guide thy helm no more, Nor whisper love again! II. POEMS OF NATURE. WOODS AND WATERS. “O ye valleys! O ye mountains! O ye groves and crystal fountains! How I love at liberty, By turns, to come and visit ye!”