JULY.

Fair was the morn to-day, the blossom's scent

Floated across the fresh grass, and the bees

With low vexed song from rose to lily went,

A gentle wind was in the heavy trees,

And thine eyes shone with joyous memories;

Fair was the early morn, and fair wert thou,

And I was happy — Ah, be happy now!

Peace and content without us, love within

That hour there was, now thunder and wild rain,

Have wrapped the cowering world, and foolish sin,

And nameless pride, have made us wise in vain;

Ah, love! although the morn shall come again,

And on new rose-buds the new sun shall smile,

Can we regain what we have lost meanwhile?

E'en now the west grows clear of storm and threat,

But midst the lightning did the fair sun die —

— Ah, he shall rise again for ages yet,

He cannot waste his life — but thou and I —

Who knows if next morn this felicity

My lips may feel, or if thou still shalt live

This seal of love renewed once more to give?

Within a lovely valley, watered well

With flowery streams, the July feast befell,

And there within the Chief-priest's fair abode

They cast aside their trouble's heavy load,

Scarce made aweary by the sultry day.

The earth no longer laboured; shaded lay

The sweet-breathed kine, across the sunny vale,

From hill to hill the wandering rook did sail,

Lazily croaking, midst his dreams of spring,

Nor more awake the pink-foot dove did cling

Unto the beech-bough, murmuring now and then;

All rested but the restless sons of men

And the great sun that wrought this happiness,

And all the vale with fruitful hopes did bless.

So in a marble chamber bright with flowers,

The old men feasted through the fresher hours,

And at the hottest time of all the day

When now the sun was on his downward way,

Sat listening to a tale an elder told,

New to his fathers while they yet did hold

The cities of some far-off Grecian isle,

Though in the heavens the cloud of force and guile

Was gathering dark that sent them o'er the sea

To win new lands for their posterity.