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THE ANCIENT WOMAN'S SONGS.-I.

LIGHT of dead and of dying days!

O Love! in thy glory go,

In a rosy mist and a moony haze,
O'er the pathless peaks of snow.

But what is left for the cold grey soul,
That moans like a wounded dove?
One wine is left in the broken bowl-
'Tis-To love, and love, and love.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

[From Phantastes, chap. xix. :-"Whether I fainted or slept, I do not know, but as I returned to consciousness, before I seemed to have power to move, I heard the woman singing and could distinguish the words. . . Now I could weep."]. .

THE ANCIENT WOMAN'S SONG.-II.

B

ETTER to sit at the waters' birth,
Than a sea of waves to win,

To live in the love that floweth forth,
Than the love that cometh in.

Be thy heart a well or love, my child,
Flowing, and free, and sure;

For a cistern of love, though undefiled,
Keeps not the spirit pure.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

From Phantastes, chap. xix. :-"When she saw me weeping she sang. earth, loving the white lady as I had never loved her before."]

I rose from the

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[From Phantastes, chap. xx. :-"I tried to repay them with song, and many were the tears they shed over my ballads and dirges."]

ADELA CATHCART'S SONG.

HE waters are rising and flowing

Over the weedy stone

Over and over it going:

It is never gone.

So joy on joy may go sweeping

Over the head of pain-
Over and over it leaping:
It will rise again.

[From Adela Cathcart, vol. ii. chap. iv.]

GEORGE MACDONALD.

DIAMOND'S SONG.

[graphic]

HERE did you come from, baby dear?
Out of everywhere into here.

Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ?
I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?

God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?

Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?

God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

[From At the Back of the North Wind, chap. xviii. :-" You never made that song, Diamond,' said his mother. No mother, I wish I had. But it's mine for all that.' 'What makes it yours?' 'I love it so.'"]

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