"If I'm a beggar born," she said, "I will speak out, for I dare not lie.

Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold, And fling the diamond necklace by."

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret all ye can."

She said "Not so: but I will know If there be any faith in man."

"Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse, "The man will cleave unto his right."

"And he shall have it," the lady replied, "Tho' I should die to-night."

"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!

Alas! my child, I sinn'd for thee."

"O mother, mother, mother," she said, "So strange it seems to me.

"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so, And lay your hand upon my head, And bless me, mother, ere I go."

She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare: She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair.

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought Leapt up from where she lay, Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, And follow'd her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower.

"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!

Why come you drest like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth?"

"If I come drest like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are: I am a beggar born," she said, "And not the Lady Clare."

"Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "For I am yours in word and in deed.

Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "Your riddle is hard to read."

O and proudly stood she up!

Her heart within her did not fail: She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes, And told him all her nurse's tale.

He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn: He turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood.

"If you are not the heiress born, And I," said he, "the next in blood--

"If you are not the heiress born, And I," said he, "the lawful heir, We two will wed to-morrow morn, And you shall still be Lady Clare."

BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.

BY LORD TENNYSON.

Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.

THE LORD OF BURLEIGH.

BY LORD TENNYSON.

In her ear he whispers gaily, "If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well."

She replies, in accents fainter, "There is none I love like thee."

He is but a landscape-painter, And a village maiden she.

He to lips, that fondly falter, Presses his without reproof; Leads her to the village altar, And they leave her father's root.

"I can make no marriage present; Little can I give my wife.

Love will make our cottage pleasant, And I love thee more than life."

They by parks and lodges going See the lordly castles stand; Summer woods about them blowing Made a murmur in the land.

From deep thought himself he rouses, Says to her that loves him well, "Let us see these handsome houses Where the wealthy n.o.bles dwell."

So she goes by him attended, Hears him lovingly converse, Sees whatever fair and splendid Lay betwixt his home and hers.

Parks with oak and chestnut shady, Parks and order'd gardens great, Ancient homes of lord and lady, Built for pleasure and for state.

All he shows her makes him dearer; Evermore she seems to gaze On that cottage growing nearer, Where they twain will spend their days.

O but she will love him truly!

He shall have a cheerful home She will order all things duly, When beneath his roof they come.

Thus her heart rejoices greatly, Till a gateway she discerns With armorial bearings stately, And beneath the gate she turns; Sees a mansion more majestic Than all those she saw before; Many a gallant gay domestic Bows before him at the door.

And they speak in gentle murmur, When they answer to his call, While he treads with footstep firmer, Leading on from hall to hall.

And while now she wanders blindly, Nor the meaning can divine, Proudly turns he round and kindly, "All of this is mine and thine."

Here he lives in state and bounty, Lord of Burleigh, fair and free, Not a lord in all the county Is so great a lord as he.

All at once the colour flushes Her sweet face from brow to chin; As it were with shame she blushes, And her Spirit changed within.

Then her countenance all over Pale again as death did prove; But he clasp'd her like a lover, And he cheer'd her soul with love.

So she strove against her weakness, Tho' at times her spirits sank; Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank; And a gentle consort made he, And her gentle mind was such That she grew a n.o.ble lady, And the people loved her much.

But a trouble weigh'd upon her, And perplex'd her, night and morn, With the burden of an honour Unto which she was not born.

Faint she grew, and ever fainter, As she murmur'd "Oh, that he Were once more that landscape-painter Which did win my heart from me!"