"
'Mid the murmur of the ocean you will tell how _Edgar_ felt
When his _Lucy_ broke her troth-plight, and he flung down _Craigengelt_,
Fitting place for actor's study, all that long and lonely shore;
Yonder point methinks as Wolf's Crag should be known for evermore.
Henceforth will the place be haunted when the midnight hour draws nigh:
Men shall see the Master standing stern against the stormy sky.
Faint, impalpable as shadow from the cloudland, _Lucy_ there
Shall keep tryst; the moon's effulgence not more golden than her hair.
And, in coming nights of Autumn, when the vast Lyceum rings
With reverberating plaudits, and the town thy praises sings,
Memories of the sands at Lowestoft shall be with you ere you sleep;
In your ears once more shall echo diapason of the deep.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A DREAM OF UNFAIRLY-TREATED WOMEN.
(_A Long Way After the Laureate._)]
I read, before my eyelids dropt their shade,
A leader on weak women and their woe,
In toil and industry, in art and trade,
In this hard world below.
And for awhile the thought of the sad part
Played by them and of Fate's ill-balanced scales,
Moistened mine eyelids, and made ache mine heart,
Remembering these strange tales
Of woman's miseries in every land,
I saw wherever poverty draws breath
Woman and anguish walking hand in hand,
The dreary road to death.
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