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

66

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, "Though 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,

Dropp'd her head in the maiden's hand,

And follow'd her all the way.

Down stepp'd Lord Ronald from his tower: "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth! Why come you dress'd like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth?"

"If I come dress'd 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."

Oh, 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:

66 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.",

THE MAY QUEEN

BY ALFRED TENNYSON

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;

To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad

new-year,

Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline;

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say: So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,

If you do not call me loud when the day begins to

break;

But I must gather knots of flowers and buds, and garlands gay;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel

tree?

He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,

But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white;

And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of

light.

They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they

say,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love, - but that can never be;

They say his heart is breaking, mother, what is that to me?

There's many a bolder lad'll woo me any summer day;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green, And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the

Queen;

For the shepherd lads on every side'll come from far

away;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,

And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;

There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day;

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, 'll be fresh and green and still,

And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the

hill,

And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'll merrily glance and play,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;

To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad

new-year;