Behold the radiant isles

With which old ocean smiles;
Behold the seasons run
Obedient to the sun;

The gracious showers descend;
Life springing without end:
By day the glorious light;
The starry pomp by night;-
Behold all these, and know
How goodly is the earth!

How goodly is the earth!
Yet if this earth be made
So goodly wherein all

That is shall droop and fade; Wherein the glorious light

Hath still its fellow, shade;So goodly, where is strife Ever 'twixt death and life; Where trouble dims the eye; Where sin hath mastery; How much more bright and fair, Will be that region, where The saints of God shall rest Rejoicing with the blessed; Where pain is not, nor death,The Paradise of God!

A LIFE'S SORROW.
AN OLD MAN'S NARRATIVE.

My life hath had its curse; and I will tell
To you its dark and troubled history.
Brethren you are; oh then as brethren dwell,
Linked soul to soul in blessed unity;
Like the rejoicing branches of a tree,
All braving storm, all sharing sunny weather,
All putting on their leaves, and withering all together.

I had a brother. As a spring of joy
Was he unto the gladness of my youth;
And in our guileless confidence, each boy,
Vowed a sweet vow of everlasting truth,
All sympathetic love, all generous ruth;
Alas! that years the noble heart should tame,
And the boy's virtue put the man to shame!

I was the elder; and as years passed on
Men paid invidious homage to the heir;
And pride, which was the sin of angels, won
Our human hearts; their guilt I will not spare:
If I was proud, the boy began to wear
A lip of scorn, and paid me back my pride,
With anowy wit that wounded and defied.

Still he was dear to me, and I would gaze
With yearning heart upon him as he went
Past me in silent pride, and inly praised
His godlike form, and the fair lineament
Of his fine countenance, as eloquent
As if it breathed forth music; and his voice
Oh how its tones could soften and rejoice!

Strange was it, that a brother, thus my pride, Grew to my friendship so estranged and cold; Strange was it, that kind spirits erst allied

By kindred fellowship, so proved of old, Were sundered and to separate interests sold! I know not how it was; but pride was strong In either breast, and did the other wrong. There was another cause we fiercely strove In an ambitious race; but worse than all, We met, two rival combatants in love: My brother was the victor, and my fall. Maddening my jealous pride, turned love to gall. There was no lingering kindness more. We parted, Each on his separate way, the severed-hearted. For years we met not; met not till we stood, Silent and moody, by our father's bed, Each with his hatred seemingly subdued

Whilst in the presence of that reverent hend: Surely our steadfast rancour might have fled When that good father joined our hands and smiled, And died believing we were reconciled!

And so we might have been; but there were those
Who found advantage in our longer hate;
Who stepped between our hearts and kept us foes,
And taught that hatred was inviolate:-
Fools to be duped by such! But ah, too late
True knowledge and repentance come; and back
I look in woe upon life's blighted track!

We were the victims of the arts we scorned;
We were like clay within the potter's hand:
And so again we parted. He adorned

The courtly world: his wit and manners bland
The hearts of men and women could command.
I too ran folly's round, till tired of pleasure,
I sought repose in tranquil, rural leisure.
Ere long he left his native land, and went

Into the East with pomp and power girt round. And so years past: the morn of life was spent, And manhood's noon advanced with splendour crowned;

They said 'mid kingly luxury without bound, He dwelt in joy; and that his blessings ever Flowed like that land's unmeasured, bounteous river. And the world worshipped him, for he was great Great in the council, greater in the field. And I too had my blessings, for I sate

Amid my little ones: the fount unsealed
Of my heart's wronged affections seemed to yield
A tenfold current: and my babes, like light
Unto the captive's gaze, rejoiced my sight.

I dwelt within my home an altered man ;
Again all tenderness and love was sweet,

"T was as if fresh existence had began,

Since pleasant welcomes were sent forth to greet My coming, and the sound of little feet Was on my floor, and bright and loving eyes Beamed on me without feigning a disguise.

As the chill snows of winter melt away

Before the genial spring, so from my heart Passed hatred and revenge; and I could pray

For pardon, pardoning all; my soul was blessed With answered love, and hopes whereon to rest My joy in years to come; I asked no more, The cup of that rich blessedness ran o'er. Alas! even then the brightness of my life

Again grew dim; my fount of joy was dried; My soul was doomed to bear a heavier strife

Than it had borne! - my children at my side

In their meek, loving beauty, drooped and died First they, and then their mother! Did I weep? No, tears are not for griefs intense and deep! Ah me! those weary days, those painful nights, When voices from the dead were in mine ear,

And I had visions of my lost delights,

And saw the lovely and the loving near,

-

-

I had known sorrow, and remorse, and shame,
But never knew I misery till that time;
And in my soul sprang up the torturing blame,

That they had died for my unpardoned crime!
Then madness followed; and my manhood's prime
Passed like a dark and hideous dream away,
Without a memory left of night or day.
I dwelt within my childhood's home, and yet
I wist not of each dear familiar place;
My soul was in a gloomy darkness set,

Engulphed in deadness for a season's space. At length light beamed; a ray of heavenly grace Upon my bowed and darkened spirit lay, Healing its wounds and giving power to pray. I rose a sorrowing man, and yet renewed:

Resigned, although abashed to the dust; I felt that God was righteous, true, and good, And though severe in awful judgment, just; Therefore in him I put undoubting trust, And walked once more among my fellow-men, Yet in their vain joys mingling not again. My home was still a solitude; none sought Nor found in me companion; yet I pined For something which might win my weary thought From its deep anguish; some strong, generous mind. Round which my lorn affections might be twined: Some truthful heart on which mine own might lean, And still from life some scattered comfort glean. The dead, alas! I sorrowed for the dead,

Until well-nigh my madness had returned;
Till memory of them grew a thing of dread,
And therefore towards a living friend I yearned.
My brother! then my soul unto thee turned;
Then pined I for thy spirit's buoyant play,
Like the chained captive for the light of day!
The kindness of his youth came back to me;
I saw his form in visions of the night;

I seemed to hear his footsteps light and free
Upon my floors; the memoried delight

Of his rich voice came back with sweeter might!
Perchance 'twas madness- so I often thought,
For with insatiate zeal in me it wrought

Hard by there was a grove of cypress trees;

A place, as if for mourning spirits made; Thither I sped, my burdened heart to ease,

And weep unseen within the secret shade. A mighty woe that cypress grove displayed! Oh let me weep! you will not say that tears Wrung by that sorrow can be stanched by years.

There was a tomb; a tomb as of a king;

A gorgeous palace of the unconscious dead. My heart died in me, like the failing wing

Of the struck bird, as on that wall I read
My brother's name! Feeling and memory fled;
The flood-gates of my misery gave way,
And senseless on the marble floor I lay.

I lay for hours; and when my sense returned
The day was o'er; no moon was in the sky,
But the thick-strewn, eternal planets burned
In their celestial beauty steadfastly;-

It seemed each star was as a heavenly eye Looking upon my sorrow; — thus I deemed, And sate within the tomb till morning beamed..

-

-For this I crossed the sea: in those far wilds, Through perils numberless, for this I went! What followed next I tell not: as a child's

Again my soul was feeble; too much spent
To suffer as of old, or to lament.

I came back to the scenes where life began,
By griefs, not years, a bowed and aged man.

I murmur not; but with submissive will
Resign to woe the evening of my day;
On the great morrow love will have its fill;
God will forgive our poor repentant clay,
Nor thrust us from his paradise away!
But brethren, be ye warned! Oh do not sever
Your kindred hearts, which should be linked

For ever!

THE OLD FRIEND AND THE NEW.

My old friend, he was a good old friend,
And I thought, like a fool, his face to mend;
I got another; but ah! to my cost

I found him unlike the one I had lost!

I and my friend, we were bred together:-
He had a smile like the summer weather;
A kind warm heart; and a hand as free:-
My friend, he was all the world to me!

I could sit with him and crack many a joke,
And talk of old times and the village folk;
He had been with us at the Christmas time;
He knew every tree we used to climb;
And where we played; and what befell,
My dear old friend remembered well.
It did me good but to see his face;
And I've put another friend in his place!
I wonder how such a thing could be,

For my old friend would not have slighted me!

Oh my fine new friend, he is smooth and bland,
With a jewelled ring or two on his hand;
He visits my lord and my lady fair;

He hums the last new opera air.

He takes not the children on his knee;

My faithful hound reproacheth me,

For he snarls when my new friend draweth near,
But my good old friend to the brute was dear!
I wonder how I such thing could do,
As change the old friend for the new!

My rare old friend, he read the plays,
That were written in Master Shakspeare's days;
He found in them wit and moral good:-

My new friend thinks them coarse and rude: -
And many a pleasant song he sung,

Because they were made when we were young;
He was not too grand, not he, to know
The merry old songs made long ago.
He writ his name on the window-pane; —

It was cracked by my new friend's riding-cane!

My good old friend, “he tirled at the pin,"
He opened the door and entered in;
We all were glad to see his face
As he took at the fire his 'customed place,
And the little children, loud in glee,
They welcomed him as they welcomed me.
He knew our griefs, our joys he shared ;
There cannot be friend with him compared ;
We had tried him long, had found him true!
Why changed I the old friend for the new?

My new friend cometh in lordly state;
He peals a startling ring at the gate;
There's hurry and pomp, there's pride and din,
And my new friend bravely entereth in.
I bring out the noblest wines for cheer,
I make him a feast that costeth dear;

trut he knows not what in my heart lies deep; He may laugh with me, but never shall weep,

For there is no bond between us twain;
And I sigh for my dear old friend again;
And thus, too late, I bitterly rue

That I changed the old friend for the new!

MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY.

A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME.

PART I.

"Arise, my maiden, Mabel,” The mother said, "arise,

For the golden sun of Midsummer Is shining in the skies. "Arise, my little maiden,

For thou must speed away, To wait upon thy grandmother This livelong summer day.

"And thou must carry with thee

This wheaten cake so fine; This new-made pat of butter;

This little flask of wine!

"And tell the dear old body,

This day I cannot come,

For the good man went out yester-morn, And he is not come home.

"And more than this, poor Amy

Upon my knee doth lie;

I fear me, with this fever-pain
That little child will die!

"And thou can'st help thy grandmother; The table thou can'st spread; Can'st feed the little dog and bird,

And thou can'st make her bed.

"And thou can'st fetch the water,

From the lady-well hard by ;
And thou can'st gather from the wood
The fagots brown and dry.

"Can'st go down to the lonesome glen,
To milk the mother-ewe;
This is the work, my Mabel,
That thou wilt have to do.

"But listen now, my Mabel,

This is Midsummer-day, When all the fairy people

From elf-land come away.

"And when thou art in lonesome glen,
Keep by the running burn,
And do not pluck the strawberry flower,
Nor break the lady-fern.

"But think not of the fairy folk,
Lest mischief should befall;
Think only of poor Amy,
And how thou lov'st us all.

"Yet keep good heart, my Mabel,
If thou the fairies see,
And give them kindly answer

If they should speak to thee. "And when into the fir-wood

Thou go'st for fagots brown, Do not, like idle children,

Go wandering up and down.
But, fill thy little apron,

My child, with earnest speed;
And that thou break no living bough
Within the wood, take heed.
"For they are spiteful brownies
Who in the wood abide,
So be thou careful of this thing,
Lest evil should betide.

"But think not, little Mabel,
Whilst thou art in the wood,
Of dwarfish, wilful brownies,
But of the Father good.

"And when thou goest to the spring,
To fetch the water thence,
Do not disturb the little stream,
Lest this should give offence.
"For the queen of all the fairies

She loves that water bright;
I've seen her drinking there myself

On many a summer night.

"But she's a gracious lady,

And her thou need'st not fear;
Only disturb thou not the stream,

Nor spill the water clear!"
"Now all this I will heed, mother,
Will no word disobey,
And wait upon the grandmother
This livelong summer day!"
PART II.

A way tripped little Mabel,

With the wheaten cake so fine; With the new-made pat of butter,

And the little flask of wine. And long before the sun was hot, And morning mists had cleared, Beside the good old grandmother

The willing child appeared. And all her mother's message She told with right good-will, How that the father was away,

And the little child was ill.

And then she swept the hearth up clean,
And then the table spread;

And next she fed the dog and bird;
And then she made the bed.
"And go now," said the grandmother,

Ten paces down the dell,
And bring in water for the day;
Thou know'st the lady-well!"

All clothed in green and white.

A curtsey low made Mabel,
And then she stooped to fill
Her pitcher at the sparkling spring,
But no drop did she spill.

"Thou art a handy maiden,"
The fairy lady said;

"Thou hast not spilled a drop, nor yet

The fair spring troubled!

"And for this thing which thou hast done, Yet may'st not understand,

I give to thee a better gift

Than houses or than land.

"Thou shalt do well, whate'er thou dost,
As thou hast done this day;
Shalt have the will and power to please,
And shalt be loved alway!"

Thus having said, she passed from sight,
And nought could Mabel see,
But the little bird, the sky-blue bird,
Upon the leafy tree.

-"And now go," said the grandmother,
"And fetch in fagots dry;

All in the neighbouring fir-wood,
Beneath the trees they lie."
Away went kind, good Mabel,

Into the fir-wood near,

Where all the ground was dry and brown,
And the grass grew thin and sere.

She did not wander up and down,
Nor yet a live branch pull,
But steadily, of the fallen boughs
She picked her apron full.

And when the wild-wood brownies
Came sliding to her mind,

She drove them thence, as she was told,
With home-thoughts sweet and kind.

But all that while the brownies

Within the fir-wood still,

They watched her how she picked the wood, And strove to do no ill.

"And oh, but she is small and neat,"

Said one," 'twere shame to spite
A creature so demure and meek,
A creature harmless quite!"

"Look only," said another,

"At her little gown of blue; At the kerchief pinned about her head, And at her little shoe!"

"Oh, but she is a comely child,"
Said a third, "and we will lay
A good-luck-penny in her path,
A boon for her this day,-
Seeing she broke no living wood;

No live thing did affray."

With that the smallest penny,

Of the finest silver ore,
Upon the dry and slippery path,
Lay Mabel's feet before.

With joy she picked the penny up,
The fairy penny good;

And with her fagots dry and brown

Went wondering from the wood.

Now she has that," said the brownies, "Let flax be ever so dear, Will buy her clothes of the very best,

For many and many a year!"

-"And go, now," said the grandmother, "Since falling is the dew,

Go down unto the lonesome glen,
And milk the mother-ewe!"

All down into the lonesome glen,

Through copses thick and wild;

Through moist, rank grass, by trickling streams,
Went on the willing child.

And when she came to lonesome glen,
She kept beside the burn,

And neither plucked the strawberry-flower,
Nor broke the lady-fern.

And while she milked the mother-ewe

Within the lonesome glen,

She wished that little Amy
Were strong and well again.

And soon as she had thought this thought,
She heard a coming sound,

As if a thousand fairy-folk
Were gathering all around.

And then she heard a little voice, Shrill as the midge's wing, That spake aloud, "a human child Is here- yet mark this thing!

"The laay-tern is all unbroke,

The strawberry-flower unta'en! What shall be done for her, who still

From mischief can refrain?”

"Give her a fairy-cake!" said one,
"Grant her a wish!" said three;
The latest wish that she hath wished,"
Said all," whate'er it be!"

-Kind Mabel heard the words they spake,
And from the lonesome glen,
Unto the good old grandmother
Went gladly back again.

Thus happened it to Mabel
On that Midsummer-day,
And these three fairy-blessings
She took with her away.

"Tis good to make all duty sweet,
To be alert and kind;

'Tis good, like little Mabel, To have a willing mind!

A CHRISTMAS CAROL
AWAKE, arise, good Christians,
Let nothing you dismay;
Remember Christ our Saviour
Was born upon this day!
The self-same moon was shining
That now is in the sky,
When a holy band of angels

Came down from God on high.
Came down on clouds of glory,
Arrayed in shining light,
Unto the shepherd-people,

Who watched their flocks by night

And through the midnight silence
The heavenly host began,
"Glory to God the highest;

On earth good-will to man!
"Fear not, we bring good tidings,
For, on this happy morn,
The promised one, the Saviour,
In Bethlehem town is born!"

Up rose the joyful shepherds
From the ground whereon they lay,
As ye should rise, good Christians,
To hail this blessed day!

Up rose the simple shepherds,

All with a joyful mind;

"And let us go, with speed," said they, "This holy child to find!"

Not in a kingly palace

The son of God they found,
But in a lowly manger
Where oxen fed around.

The glorious king of heaven;
The Lord of all the earth,

In mercy condescended

To be of humble birth,

There worshipped him the wise men,
As prophets had foretold;
And laid their gifts before him,

Frankincense, myrrh, and gold.

Long looked the simple shepherds,
With holy wonder stirred,
Then praised God for all the things
Which they had seen and heard.