metime in feasts and follies, for he went ifelike through all things; and his thoughts then rose ke sparkles in the bright wine, brighter still; metimes in dreams, and then the shining words ould wake him in the dark before his face. l things talked thoughts to him. The sea went mad show his meaning; and the awful sun undered his thoughts into him; and at night e stars would whisper theirs, the moon sigh hers. PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. THE POET'S IMPULSE. FROM "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE," CANTO III. SKY, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful; the far roll Of your departing voices is the knoll nest? Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe - into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would And breathe God's peace, to earth "glad tidings" speak; But as it is, I live and die unheard, th a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword. bringing From the near heavens, of old so dim and far! SARAH JANE LIPPINCOTT (Grace Greenwood). LORD BYRON. THE INNER VISION. ST Sweet it is with unuplifted eyes pace the ground, if path there be or none, hile a fair region round the traveller lies ich he forbears again to look upon; ased rather with some soft ideal scene, e work of fancy, or some happy tone meditation, slipping in between beauty coming and the beauty gone. BOOKS. FROM "THE KAléder of shepeRDES," 1528. ANONYMOUS. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart"This tent is mine," said Yussouf, "but no more Could have recovered greenness? It was gone Quite underground; as flowers depart All the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown. These are thy wonders, Lord of power, This or that is : Thy word is all, if we could spell. O that I once past changing were, Fast in thy paradise, where no flower can wither! Than it is God's; come in, and be at peace ; So Yussouf entertained his guest that night, That inward light the stranger's face made grand, Offring at heav'n, growing and groning thither; Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son!" THE sun comes up and the sun goes down, Now the third and fatal conflict for the Persian | And day and night are the same as one; throne was done, The year grows green, and the year grows brown, And the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning And what is it all, when all is done? victory won. Harmosan, the last and boldest the invader to defy, Grains of sombre or shining sand, And men go down in ships to the seas, Captive, overborne by numbers, they were bring. And a hundred ships are the same as one; ing forth to die. And backward and forward blows the breeze, Then exclaimed that noble captive: "Lo, IA tide with never a shore in sight perish in my thirst; Getting steadily on to the night. The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. A PSALM OF LIFE. And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, I journeyed many roads; I knocked at gates; I met, and said, "A heritage awaits Of news? some message sent to me whereby Some asked me in; naught lay beyond their door; But said that men were just behind who bore And so the morn, the noon, the day, were spent, At last one cried, whose face I could not see, Hath no man told thee that thou art joint heir With one named Christ, who waits the goods to share?" The one named Christ I sought for many days, I heard men name his name in many ways; But they who named him most gave me no sign And when at last I stood before his face, Save subtle air of joy which filled the place; In solemn silence I received my share, My share! No deed of house or spreading lands, Heaped up with gold; my elder brother's hands Foxes have holes, and birds in nests are fed : My share! The right like him to know all pain In bitter tears; the right with him to keep My share! To-day men call it grief and death; I thank my Father with my every breath, And through my tears I call to each "joint heir" HELEN HUNT JACKSON. SYMPATHY. FROM "ION," ACT 1. SC. 2. 'Tis a little thing To give a cup of water; yet its draught "Poor child, what evil ones have hindered thee To know the bonds of fellowship again; And shed on the departing soul a sense, More precious than the benison of friends About the honored death-bed of the rich, To him who else were lonely, that another Of the great family is near and feels. SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. CHORUS. With ravished ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god, Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician OF MUSIC. AN ODE. 'T WAS at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound In flower of youth and beauty's pride. None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. CHORUS. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus, placed on high Amid the tuneful choir, With flying fingers touched the lyre; The song began from Jove, When he to fair Olympia pressed, The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, With ravished ears The monarch hears, And seems to shake the spheres. Soothed with the sound the king grew vain ; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise; He sung Darius, great and good, By too severe a fate, And weltering in his blood; The various turns of chance below; |