II.

Bend down your glittering urns Ere yet the dawn returns, And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread; Upon the air rain balm; Bid all the woods be calm; Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed. That so the Maiden may With smiles your care repay When from her couch she lifts her golden head; Waking with earliest birds, Ere yet the misty herds Leave warm 'mid the grey grass their dusky bed.

[Decoration]

_SONG._

Seek not the tree of silkiest bark And balmiest bud, To carve her name--while yet 't is dark-- Upon the wood! The world is full of noble tasks And wreaths hard-won: Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands, Till day is done.

Sing not that violet-veined skin, That cheek's pale roses; The lily of that form wherein Her soul reposes! Forth to the fight, true man, true knight! The clash of arms Shall more prevail than whispered tale To win her charms.

The warrior for the True, the Right, Fights in Love's name: The love that lures thee from that fight Lures thee to shame. That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves The spirit free,-- That love, or none, is fit for one, Man-shaped like thee.

[Decoration]

_SONG._

When I was young, I said to Sorrow, "Come, and I will play with thee:"-- He is near me now all day; And at night returns to say, "I will come again to-morrow, I will come and stay with thee."