E	LEG	I	A	RUM	LIBER,
	Terruit	et	densas	pavido	cum	rege	cohortes,
	Acre	dum	vacuo	buccina	clara	son	at,
	Cornea	pulvereum	dum	verberat	ungula	campum,
	Currus	arenosam	dum	quatit	actus	humuni,
	Auditurque	hinnitus	equorum	ad	bella	ruentum,
	Et	strepitus	ferri,	murmuraque	alta	virum.
	Et	tu	(quod	superest	miseris)	sperare	memento,
	Et	tua	magnanimo	pectore	vince	mala	;
	Nee	dubttes	quandoque	frui	melioribus	annis
	Atque	iterum	patnos	posse	videre	lares.
	ELEG.	V.	ANNO	MTATIS	20.
	IN	ADVENTUM	VERIS.
	IN	se	perpetuo	Tempus	revolubile	gyro
	Jam	revocat	Zephyros,	vere	tepente,	novos	;
	Induiturque	brevem	Tellus	reparata	juventam,
	Jamque	soluta	gelu	dulce	virescit	humus.
	Fallor	?	an	et	nobis	redeunt	in	carmina	vires,
	Ingeniumque	mihi	munere	veris	adest	?
	Munere	veris	adest,	iterumque	vigescit	ab	illo,
	(Quis	putet	?)	atque	aliquod	jam	sibi	poscit	opus.
	Castalis	ante	cculos,	bifidumque	cacumen	oberrat,
	Et	mihi	Pyrenen	somnia	nocte	ferunt	;
	Concitaque	arcano	fervent	mihi	pectora	motu,
	Et	furor,	et	sonitus	me	sacer	intits	agit.
	Delius	ipse	venit,	video	Peneide	lauro
	Implicitos	crines,	Delius	ipse	venit.
	Jam	mihi	mens	liquidi	raptatur	in	ardua	coeli,
	Perque	vagas	nubes	corpora	liber	eo	;
	Perque	umbras,	perque	antra	feror	penetralia	vatura,
	Et	mihi	fana	patent	interiora	Deum	;
	Intuiturque	animus	toto	quid	agatur	Olympo,
	Nee	fugiunt	oculos	Tartara	caeca	meos.
	Quid	tam	grande	sonat	distento	spiritus	ore	?
	Quid	parit	haec	rabies,	quid	sacer	iste	furor?
	Yer	mihi,	quod	dec!	it	ingenium,	cantabitur	illo	;
	Profuerint	isto	reddita	dona	modo.
	Jam,	Philomela,	tuos,	foliis	adoperta	novellis,
	Instituis	modulos,	dum	silet	omne	nemus	:
	Urbe	ego,	tu	sylva,	simul	incipiamus	utrique,
	Et	simul	adventum	veris	uterque	canat.
	Veris	io	rediere	vices,	celebremus	honores
	.	J	Veris,	et	hoc	subeat	Musa	perennis	opus.
	Jam	sol	yEthiopas	fugiens	Tithoniaque	arva,
	Flectit	ad	Arctoas	aurea	lora	plagas.
	Est	breve	npctis	iter,	brevis	est	mora	noctis	opaca;,
	Horrida	cum	tenebris	exulat	ilia	suis.
	Jamque	Lycaonius	plaustrum	coeleste	Bootes
	Noa	longa	scquitur	fessus	ut	ante	via	;


TRANSLA	TIONS.	443
	Of	Academus,	if	the	schools	received
	This	monster	of	the	fancy	first	from	thee,
	Either	recall	at	once	the	banished	bards
	To	thy	republic,	or,	thyself	evinced
	A	wilder	fabulist,	go	also	forth.
	TO	HIS	FATHER.
	OH	that	Plena's	spring	would	through	my	breast
	Pour	its	inspiring	influence,	and	rush
	No	rill,	but	rather	an	o'erflowing	flood	!
	That,	for	my	venerable	Father's	sake
	All	meaner	themes	renounced,	my	Muse,	on	wings
	Of	duty	borne,	might	reach	a	loftier	strain.
	For	thee,	my	Father	!	howsoe'er	it	please,
	She	frames	this	slender	work,	nor	know	I	aught
	That	may	thy	gifts	more	suitably	requite	;
	Though	to	requite	them	suitably	would	ask
	Returns	much	nobler,	and	surpassing	far
	The	meagre	stores	of	verbal	gratitude	:
	But,	such	as	I	possess,	I	send	thee	all.
	This	page	presents	thee	in	their	full	amount
	With	thy	son's	treasures,	and	the	sum	is	nought	;
	Nought,	save	the	riches	that	from	airy	dream,
	In	secret	grottos	and	in	laurel	bowers,
	I	have,	by	golden	Clio's	gift,	acquired.
	Verse	is	a	work	divine	;	despise	not	thou
	Verse	therefore,	which	evinces	(nothing	more)
	Man's	heavenly	source,	and	which,	retaining	still
	Some	scintillations	of	Promethean	fire,
	Bespeaks	him	animated	from	above.
	The	Gods	love	verse	;	the	infernal	powers	themselves
	Confess	the	influence	of	verse,	which	stirs
	The	lowest	deep,	and	binds	in	triple	chains
	Of	adamant	both	Pluto	and	the	shades.
	In	verse	the	Delphic	priestess,	and	the	pale
	Tremulous	Sibyl,	make	the	future	known,
	And	he	who	sacrifices	on	the	shrine
	Hangs	verse,	both	when	he	smites	the	threatening	bull
	And	when	he	spreads	his	reeking	entrails	wide
	To	scrutinize	the	Fates	enveloped	there.
	We	too	ourselves,	what	time	we	seek	again
	Our	native	skies,	and	one	eternal	now
	Shall	be	the	only	measure	of	our	being,
	Crowned	all	with	gold,	and	chanting	to	the	lyre
	Harmonious	verse,	shall	range	the	courts	above,
	And	make	the	starry	firmament	resound.
	And,	even	now,	the	fiery	spirit	pure
	That	wheels	yon	circling	orbs,	directs,	himself,
	Their	mazy	dance	with	melody	of	verse
	Unutterable,	immortal,	hearing	which
	Huce	Oohiuchus	holds	his	hiss	suppressed,


-21
	THE	MONKEY.
	A	Monkey,	once,	out	for	a	spree,
	Did	chance	a	glist	ning	pool	to	see,
	And	happ	ning	in	its	depths	to	stare,
	Did	see	another	monkey,	there.
	This	monkey	tried	to	stare	him	down,
	Which	made	our	staring	Monkey	frown.
	The	frown	returned,	our	Monkey	swore
	He	soon	would	even	up	the	score,
	And	in	the	fight	which	next	befell.
	Our	Monkey	sprang	into	the	well,
	And,	in	his	rage	and	deadly	hate,
	Did	try	to	find	his	mirrored	mate.
	Although	one	corpse,	alone,	was	found,
	Both	monkeys	in	that	well	were	drowned.
	Such	monkeys,	ev	ry	day,	we	meet.
	In	human	form	upon	the	street	;
	They	look	into	each	other	s	eyes,
	Repeat	the	smile	in	glad	surprise,
	And,	if	perchance,	they	find	a	frown,
	They	try	perforce	to	frown	it	down.
	And	thus	precipitate	a	fight
	That	seldom	sets	the	matter	right.
	In	lust	for	blood	and	greed	we	vie,
	While	plunging	in	the	thickest	fray	:
	Forgot	is	ev	ry	friendly	tie
	That	binds	us	to	humanity.
	Alas	!	my	friends,	the	smiling	face
	Will	oft	the	frowning	humor	chase,
	And	loyal	hearts,	enforced	by	will.
	Will	bid	the	storms	of	life	be	still.
	And	with	a	sense	of	sin	and	shame
	Will	many	a	fallen	friend	reclaim.
	As	when	the	sun	shines	in	your	eyes.
	And	rifts	the	clouds	in	glad	surprise,
	The	gloom	of	sorrow	on	your	brow
	Transforms	to	smiling	Nature	now,
	And,	like	a	mirror,	ev	ry	face
	Reflects	each	smile	and	winning	grace.
	So	seeks	the	human	heart	to	find
	Some	other	heart,	that	s	not	unkind,
	But	true	as	steel	that	seems	to	be
	In	unison	and	sympathy.


NAPOLEON	JACKSON
	Then,	resuming	her	work,	she	began
	slowly	and	in	a	wavering	minor	key	to
	sing:
	Oh,	heaben	s	mighty	close,
	Yas,	close,	yas,	close,
	Ef	you	got	a	yeah	to	listen
	To	de	hos	,	to	de	hos	,
	Ef	you	got	a	yeah	to	listen	to	de	sto-ry	!
	Oh,	heaben	s	mighty	nigh,
	Yas,	nigh,	yas,	nigh,
	Ef	you	got	a	eye	for	visions
	In	de	sky,	in	de	sky,
	Ef	you	got	a	eye	for	visions	o	de	glo-ry	!
	As	she	sang	she	had	gradually	warmed
	to	the	words,	repeating	the	last	couplet
	several	times,	and	when	she	finally
	stopped,	she	turned	to	the	dog,	who	was
	again	whining,	while	he	lifted	his	nose
	into	the	shaft	of	sunlight	above	his	body.
	"I	tell	yer,	pardner,"	she	began,	still
	keeping	her	eyes	upon	the	dog,	although
	addressing	her	husband,	"	I	tell	yer,	my
	b	lief	is	dat	Gord	meks	it	up	to	a	dorg."
	[23]


NOTHING	TO	WEAR.	19
	As	more	comme	il	faut	"Yes,	but,	dear
	me,	that	lean
	Sophronia	Stuckup	has	got	one	just	like
	it,
	And	I	won	t	appear	dressed	like	a	chit	of
	sixteen."
	"Then	that	splendid	purple,	that	sweet
	Mazarine	;
	That	superb	point	d	aiguille,	that	imperial
	green,
	That	zephyr-like	tarleton,	that	rich	grena-
	dine"-
	"	Not	one	of	all	which	is	fit	to	be	seen/
	Said	the	lady,	becoming	excited	and	flushed.
	"Then	wear,"	I	exclaimed,	in	a	tone	which
	quite	crushed
	Opposition,	"that	gorgeous	toilette	which
	you	sported
	In	Paris	last	Spring,	at	the	grand	presen
	tation,
	When	you	quite	turned	the	head	of	the
	head	of	the	nation	;
	And	by	all	the	grand	court	were	so	very
	much	courted."
	The	end	of	the	nose	was	portentously
	tipped	up,


30	NOTHING	TO	WEAR.
	And	the	temples	of	Trade	which	tower	on
	each	side,
	To	the	alleys	and	lanes	where	Misfortune
	and	Guilt
	Their	children	have	gathered,	their	city
	have	built	;
	Where	Hunger	and	Vice,	like	twin	beasts
	of	prey,
	Have	hunted	their	victims	to	gloom	and
	despair	:
	Raise	the	rich	dainty	dress,	and	the	fine
	broidered	skirt
	Pick	your	delicate	way	through	the	damp
	ness	and	dirt
	Grope	through	the	dark	dens	climb	the
	ricketty	stair
	To	the	garret,	where	wretches,	the	young
	and	the	old,
	Half-starved,	and	half-naked,	lie	crouched
	from	the	cold;
	See	those	skeleton	limbs,	those	frost-bitten
	feet,
	All	bleeding	and	bruised	by	the	stones	of
	the	street;
	Hear	the	sharp	cry	of	childhood	the	deep
	groans	that	swell


OVINGDEAN	GRANGE.	381
	we	spent	together	in	the	hiding-place	at	Ovingdean,
	colonel	?"
	"I	have	forgotten	all,	except	your	majesty's	gene
	rosity,"	replied	Stelfax,	bending	to	the	saddle-bow.	He
	was	already,	we	may	perceive,	a	courtier.
	Ninian	Saxby	became	the	fortunate	possessor	of	Patty
	Whinchat,	and	was	blessed	with	a	numerous	progeny.
	After	his	father's	death	he	filled	the	post	of	ostreger	to
	Clavering,	who	grew	passionately	fond	of	all	country
	sports.	Some	of	Ninian's	descendants,	we	believe,	may
	be	found	in	the	neighbourhood	of	Ovingdean	to	this	day.
	The	body	of	stout	old	John	Habergeon	was	removed
	from	Kingston	Hill,	and	buried	in	the	village	churchyard.
	Peace	be	with	him	!
	Captain	Tattersall	received	a	considerable	sum	for	his
	services.	Moreover,	a	pension	of	a	hundred	a	year	was
	settled	upon	him	and	his	descendants	;	and	he	was	like
	wise	presented	with	a	handsome	ring	by	the	grateful
	monarch.	"Would	you	know	more	of	the	worthy	skipper's
	virtues,	go	seek	his	monument	in	the	old	parish	church
	yard	at	Brighton!	There	you	may	read	the	following
	epitaph	:
	Within	this	marble	monument	doth	lie
	Approved	faith,	honour,	and	loyalty.
	In	this	cold	clay	he	now	has	ta'en	his	station,
	That	once	preserved	the	church,	the	crown,	and	nation.
	When	Charles	the	great	was	nothing	but	a	breath,
	This	valiant	soul	stept	between	him	and	death.
	Usurpers'	threats,	and	tyrant	rebels'	frown
	Could	not	affright	his	virtue	to	the	Crown	;
	Which	glorious	act	of	his	for	church	and	state
	Eight	princes	in	one	day	did	gratulate;
	Professing	all	to	him	in	debt	to	be,
	As	all	the	world	are	to	his	memory.
	Bonfellow	Smith	had	gone	the	way	of	all	flesh	before
	that	most	festive	time,	when	to	the	infinite	satisfaction
	of	all	landlords	Universal	England	drunk	did	get
	For	joy	that	Charles,	her	monarch,	was	restored.


41
	Who	comes	here	?	A	Grenadier.
	What	do	you	want	?	A	pot	of	beer.
	Where's	your	money	?	I	forgot.
	Get	you	gone,	you	drunken	sot.
	Smiling	girls,	rosy	boys,
	Come	and	buy	my	little	toys,
	Monkeys	made	of	gingerbread
	And	sugar	horses	painted	red.


50
	As	I	was	going	to	sell	my	eggs,
	I	met	a	thief	with	bandy	legs,
	Bandy	legs	and	crooked	toes,
	I	tript	up	his	heels	and	he	fell	on	his	nose.
	Old	mistress	McShuttle
	Lived	in	a	coal-scuttle,
	Along	with	her	dog	and	her	cat	;
	What	they	ate	I	can't	tell,
	But	'tis	known	very	well,
	That	none	of	the	party	were	fat.


55
	Bonny	lass	!	bonny	lass	!
	Will	you	be	mine	?
	You	shall	neither	wash	dishes
	Nor	serve	the	wine,
	But	sit	on	a	cushion	and	sew	up	a	seam,
	And	you	shall	have	strawberries,	sugar	and	cream.
	I	won't	be	my	father's	Jack,
	I	won't	be	my	father's	Jill,	9
	I	will	be	the	fiddler's	wife,
	And	have	music	when	I	will.
	T'other	little	tune,	t'other	little	tune,
	Prythee,	love,	play	me	t'other	little	tune.


THE	FLIGHT.	135
	According	as	it	should	be	found	in	truth,
	Instead	of	clinging	to	that	stupid	maxim
	Which	doth	belie	itself	at	every	turn
	1	The	King	can	do	no	wrong,	he	cannot	err	j
	An	idle	claim	to	make	for	mortal	man	;
	So	this	hath	come	to	be	this	nation	s	boast	:
	Laws	of	the	Medes	and	Persians	never	change?
	O,	shameful	boast	of	a	more	shameful	fact,
	Which	in	this	case	filled	four	score	thousand	graves,
	And	crushed	four	times	as	many	living	hearts,
	And	all	because	a	wicked	man,	and	vain,
	Had,	by	deception,	in	the	Great	King	s	name
	Procured	his	wickedness	to	be	made	law
	Law,	which,	when	shown	in	its	enormity,
	Might	still	not	be	expunged,	nor	yet	repealed,
	Because	some	unwise,	thoughtless	precedent
	Hath	been	found	in	the	ancient	chronicles,
	And	so,	adhered	to	since	without	a	question
	That	what	is	written	in	the	Great	King	s	name,
	And	sealed	with	the	King	s	ring,	should	be	reversed
	Never,	by	any	power	upon	the	earth.
	"	Thus	folly,	unrebuked,	grows	into	custom,
	And	custom,	written	down,	is	precedent,
	And	precedent	established,	is	as	law,
	And	law	may	thus	be	builded	on	gross	error


28	POEMS	FROxM	THE	INNER	LIFE.
	All,	all	of	these	shall	moulder	back	to	their	parent
	earth,
	Back	to	the	silent	bosom	from	whence	they	sprang
	to	birth!
	The	man,	the	living	Webster,	passed	with	a
	fleeting	breath	!
	Alas,	for	human	greatness	!	the	end	thereof	is
	death	!
	O	!	what	is	earthly	glory	?	Ask	Cassar,	\vhen	he
	fell
	At	the	base	of	Pompey	s	statue,	slain	by	those	he
	loved	too	well	;
	Ask	the	Carthaginian	hero,	who	kept	his	fearful
	vow;
	Ask	Napoleon	in	his	exile	;	ask	the	dead	before
	ye	now	;
	And	one	answer,	and	one	only,	in	the	light	of	truth
	is	given	:
	"Man	s	highest	earthly	glory	is	to	do	the	will	of
	Heaven	;
	To	rise	and	battle	bravely,	with	dauntless	moral
	might,
	In	the	holy	cause	of	Freedom,	and	the	triumph	of
	the	Right!"


THE	MEETING	OF	SIGU11D	AND	GEIIDA.
	TTTE	MEETING	OF	SIGURD	AND	GERDA.
	"	And	beautiful	now	stood	they	there,	man	and	woman	;	no	longer
	;iale	;	eye	to	eye,	hand	to	hand,	as	equals,	as	partners	in	the	light
	&gt;f	heaven."	See	MitiS	Kroner	s	"	llrothers	and	Sisters."
	(),	EARLY	love	!	O,	early	love	!
	Why	does	this	memory	haunt	me	yet	V
	Peace	!	I	invoke	thee	from	above,
	I	cannot,	though	I	would,	forget.
	IIo\v	have	I	strove,	with	prayers	and	tears,
	To	quench	this	wasting	passion-flame	!
	But	after	long,	long,	weary	years,
	It	burns	within	my	heart	the	same.	"
	She	wept	poor,	sorrowing	Gerda	wept,
	In	the	dark	pine-wood	wandering	lone,
	While	cold	the	night-winds	past	her	swept,
	And	bright	the	stars	above	her	shone.
	Poor,	suffering	dove	!	her	song	was	hushed,
	~	O


THE	SPIRIT-CHILD.	47
	Teach	him	the	clivinest	graces:
	I	return	to	earth	again	;
	Not	to	sit	and	weep	supinely,
	But	to	live	and	love	divinely."
	And	the	angels	said,	"Amen!"
	O	thou	holy	Heaven	above	us	!
	O	ye	angel	hosts	who	love	us	!
	Ye	alone	know	how	to	prove	us,
	By	the	discipline	of	life,
	That	we	faint	not	in	endeavor,
	But	with	cheerful	courage	ever
	Rise	victorious	in	the	strife.


64	POEMS	FROM	THE	INNER	LIFE.
	Three	cheers	for	the	Eagle,	the	Bird	of	the	Free	!
	Hurrah	!	Hurrah	!
	Hurrah	for	the	Eagle,	the	Bird	of	the	Free	!
	Mount	up,	O	thou	Eagle!	and	rend,	in	thy	flight,
	The	war-cloud	that	hides	our	broad	banner	from
	sight	!
	Guard,	guard	it	from	danger,	though	war-rent	and
	worn,
	And	see	that	no	star	from	its	azure	is	torn	!
	Keep	thy	breast	to	the	storm,	and	thine	eye	on
	the	sun,
	Till,	true	to	our	motto,	THE	MANY	ARE	ONE	!
	Till	the	red	rage	of	war	with	its	tumult	shall	cease,
	And	the	dove	shall	return	with	the	olive	of	peace.
	CHOKUS.
	The	Eagle	of	Freedom,	in	danger	and	night,
	Keeps	watch	o	er	our	flag	from	his	star-lighted
	height.
	From	mountain	and	valley,	from	hill-side	and	sea,
	Three	cheers	for	the	Eagle,	the	Bird	of	the	Free	!
	Hurrah	!	Hurrah	!
	Hurrah	for	the	Eagle,	the	Bird	of	the	Free	!


MISCELLANEOUS	45
	Alas	!	how	little	in	them	all	we	see
	Of	what	we	call	the	gracious,	the	diviner	!
	Than	all	this	brutehood	is	there	nothing	finer	?
	Oh,	turn	we	where	sublimity	may	be	!
	Yea,	hither,	hither	come,	O	Persian	Saint,
	O	Buddha	of	Nepaul,	O	Syrian	Jesus	!
	No	longer	deeds	of	blood	and	conflict	please	us	;
	For	heights	of	soul	for	love	our	spirits	faint	:
	For	those	who	from	life	s	discords	brought	a	tone
	Of	richest	truth	and	harmony	to	greet	us	;
	Pythagoras,	Isaiah,	Epictetus,
	Saviours	in	every	era,	every	zone	;
	For	Seneca,	Contentment	s	messenger	;
	For	Socrates,	of	all	souls	lofty,	breezy	;
	The	Nature-lover,	Francis	of	Assizi	;
	Aurelius,	the	inward	ponderer	;
	The	early	scientists	of	Nile	and	Greece,
	Our	own	rare	searchers,	Humboldt,	Darwin,
	Spencer	;
	Above	them	all	there	waves	the	golden	censer
	Whose	fragrance	stills	life	s	harshnesses	to	peace.
	Yea,	those	are	mortal	;	these,	immortal	ones,
	The	world	s	unselfish,	its	true	blessing-bringers,
	Its	painters,	sculptors,	freedom-lovers,	singers,
	Its	Shakespeares,	Burnses,	Lowells,	Emersons.


62	POEMS	OF	HUMAN	PROGRESS
	RESIDUUM
	Of	all	who	lived	aforetime,	hosts	on	hosts,
	Dear	dark-eyed	babes	where	reedy	Nilus	swings,
	Sweet	Indian	maids	who	danced	to	vina-strings,
	White	souls	who	peered	through	Persia	s	sunrise-
	posts,
	Meek	hordes	who	drooped	on	China	s	swarming
	coasts,
	Dread	millions	upon	millions	by	the	springs
	Of	Niger,	Danube,	Volga,	slaves	and	kings	:
	Of	all	these	now	where	even	are	the	ghosts	!
	And	yet	they	loved	and	worshiped,	smiled	and	wept,
	Filled	full,	as	we	do,	life	s	allotted	page,
	Dreamed	dreams	of	Good,	and	hoped	to	see	its	day.
	When	myriad	suns	have	round	the	planet	crept,
	As	we	of	others,	so	some	curious	age
	May	seek	our	line,	and	wonder,	"	Where	are
	they"!
	ii
	And	lo	!	should	some	indeed,	when	we	have	passed,
	Attempt	to	trace	our	footprints	in	earth	s	sands,
	Think	not	we	shall	have	wholly	fled	the	lands	:
	What	once	hath	been	doth	somehow	ever	last.


1	86	POEMS	OF	NATURE
	ON	BOARD	SHIP	IN	SASSAMON
	NOTCH
	To-day	the	pines	on	Kitch-a-makin	roar.
	Far	up,	their	snowy	topsails	thrash	and	sway
	Like	reeling	ships	in	Ocean	s	Titan	play,
	While	through	this	granite	notch	such	currents	pour
	Of	biting	blasts	unleashed	from	Winter	s	store,
	That	I	can	hear	and	feel	the	hurtling	spray
	Of	tempests	thundering	in	Baffin	s	Bay,
	Where	I	am	shipwrecked	on	that	Arctic	shore	!
	You	sailors	on	the	February	main,
	To-day	your	jovial	sea-songs	are	you	chanting,
	As	in	the	tales	which	fireside	readers	please	?
	Or	are	you	clinging	ice-clad,	numb	with	pain,
	In	desolate	despair	and	horror	panting
	To	frozen	shrouds	in	pitiless	swashing	seas	!
	GAIN	STILL	THE	GOAL
	[On	Doe	Hollow	Path]
	On	wide-spread	wing,	O	hawk,	thou	sailest	high,
	While	I,	good	lack	!	toil	plodding	through	the	snow	!
	If	I,	like	thee,	might	too	on	pinions	go
	Should	I	be	happier	in	that	trackless	sky	?
	On	wings	should	I	be	free	from	cause	to	sigh	?
	Would	strifes	be	absent,	life	no	bafflings	know	?


202	POEMS	OF	THE	IMMORTAL	HOPE
	Oh,	what	to	my	heart	remains	of	good	!	.	.	.
	I	know	that	when	last	by	her	side	I	stood,
	She	pointed	her	finger	she	pointed	high	:
	"	I	die,"	she	whispered,	"	yet	shall	not	die	!	"
	That	finger	uplifted	I	still	can	see	;
	And	it	beckons,	eternally	beckons	to	me.
	She	whom	I	loved	ah	no	!	not	gone	!
	The	star	that	once	beckoned	still	beckons
	me	on	!


MISCELLANEOUS	247
	The	boys	loved	his	coming	;	and	often	they	cried,
	"	Oh,	please,	dear	old	Tim	!	"	so	he	gave	them	a	ride
	On	the	top	of	his	load	of	potatoes.
	The	girls	loved	his	coming	;	and	one,	I	know,
	Once	threw	him	a	kiss	though	he	called	it	"	a
	blow!"
	"	Potatoes	oh,	potatoes	!	"
	Not	much	of	a	scholar,	perhaps,	was	he,
	Though	seldom	he	passed	in	an	"X"	for	a	"V"
	As	he	paid	for	a	load	of	potatoes.
	"What	grammar!"	he	cried,	when	the	adding	was
	done	;
	"	Two	tens	and	a	cypher	do	n	t	make	twenty-one	!
	Potatoes	oh,	potatoes	!	"
	No	loud	politician	was	honest	old	Tim,
	Yet	no	one	could	purchase	a	vote	of	him
	Though	they	bought	his	whole	load	of
	potatoes.
	"	I	vote	for	the	man	the	best	fitted,"	said	he,
	"And	he	wouldn	t	offer	a	bribe	to	me.
	Potatoes	oh,	potatoes	!	"
	"	My	choice	is	the	man,"	cried	Timothy	John,
	"	Who	11	help	push	the	world	s	great	hand-cart	on,
	And	none	o	your	small	potatoes.
	The	man	who	could	purchase	my	vote	when	he	would,
	Would	purchase	my	liberty,	too,	if	he	could.
	Potatoes	oh,	potatoes	!	"


256	ADDITIONAL	POEMS
	I	follow	them	!	and	in	the	land
	Of	Danube,	Rhine,	and	Amazon
	Again	I	feel	the	electric	thrill
	I	knew	on	thee,	O	College	Hill,
	When	hand	clasped	hand
	On	College	Hill	!
	SONNETS
	IN	A	COUNTRY	BURIAL-GROUND
	I	lingered	in	the	wayside	home	of	rest,
	Enchanted	by	the	dream	of	peace	it	wore.
	"	G.	L.	Eighteen	"	:	the	marble	told	no	more
	Which	marked	the	turf-mound	where	I	stood	a
	guest.
	A	hundred	times,	perchance,	the	robin	s	nest
	Has	swung	above	his	dust,	while,	o	er	and	o	er,
	The	timothy	and	sorrel	locked	the	door
	Which	shuts	him	safe	within	his	chamber	blest.


The	Women's	War.	*	31
	You	may	laugh	an'	may	say	that	we	women	are	crazy	an'	out	o'	our
	heads	;
	That	we'd	better	be	darnin'	our	stockin's,	a	sweepin'	or	makin'	the
	beds	;
	But	we're	goin'	right	into	the	battle,	nor	will	we	give	up	in	despair;
	If	we	only	go	at	it	in	earnest,	there's	a	wonderful	power	in	prayer.


Helen.	99
	HELEN*
	"WHILE	her	young	life	was	bright	and	fair
	With	hope	and	promise	everywhere,
	The	spoiler	came,	and	at	his	will
	Her	beauty	paled	and	passed	away,
	As	fades	the	splendor	of	the	day
	When	twilight	falls	and	all	is	still.
	O	tranquil	slumber	!	Heavenly	birth	!
	She	sleeps	to	wake	no	more	on	earth,
	But	in	a	holier	atmosphere
	Her	spirit	smiles	upon	us	here,
	As	peacefully,	as	from	the	skies
	The	stars	look	down	with	trembling	eyes
	Upon	the	dewy	world	below,
	Whose	sorrows	she	may	never	know.
	Uplifted	on	the	shore	of	time,
	O	Death	!	thy	gateway	stands	sublime.
	Beyond	there	is	a	brighter	shore,
	From	whence	we	may	return	no	more.
	O	unknown	boundary	that	lies
	Between	the	world	and	Paradise	!
	*	In	memory	of	Helen	A.	Waters,	who	died	Aug.	llth.	1872.


POEMS	FROM	LIFE	S	EXPERIENCE
	In	winter	the	parties,	the	sleighing,	the	school,
	The	games	played	at	noontime,	be	fair	was	the	rule	;
	The	good-night	at	the	ending,	the	slide	down	the	hill,
	And	pleasures,	full	many,	the	winter	would	fill.
	O,	boys	in	the	cities,	who	think	that	you	live
	And	have	better	times	than	the	country	can	give	;
	Know	this	to	be	true,	that	the	bright	country	lad
	Has	pleasures	far	more	than	you	ever	have	had.
	Fast	life	in	the	city,	like	brass	covered	with	gold.
	Becomes	artificial	and	spoils	when	it	s	old;
	But	life	in	the	country,	lived	true	to	the	end.
	Has	all	nature	s	charms	that	lite	to	befriend.
	WILD	STRAWBERRIES
	There	were	plenty	of	them	in	the	"sidehill"	lot,
	And	how	we	would	search	for	the	thickest	spot	;
	In	June	was	the	time	for	the	largest	yield,
	But	twas	hoeing	time	in	the	big	cornfield,
	Just	so	many	rows	we	must	hoc	in	a	day
	Before	we	could	leave	and	scamper	away;
	And	so	we	would	start	in	the	early	morn
	To	hoe	out	the	weeds	in	that	field	of	corn.
	By	working	hard,	a	short	rest	at	noon,
	We	would	finish	Iry	middle	of	afternoon,
	And	then	with	a	will,	no	time	to	waste,
	We	would	rush	to	that	place	for	a	strawberry	taste.
	When	our	pails	were	full	we	would	pick	and	cat,
	In	vain	to	resist,	they	were	luscious	and	sweet	;
	For	supper	that	night,	with	sugar	and	cream
	And	new	bread	and	butter	a	feast	it	would	seem	;
	22


ODE	TO	THE	NORTH-EAST	WlNLr	27
	Whether	in	spring	or	summer,
	Or	in	the	dreary	fall,
	'Mid	Nature's	fairest	children,
	She's	fairest	of	them	all.
	H.	F.	DARNELL.
	ODE	TO	THE	NORTH-EAST	WIND
	WELCOME,	wild	North-easter	!
	Shame	it	is	to	see
	Odes	to	every	zephyr
	Ne'er	a	verse	to	thee.
	Welcome,	black	North-easter	!
	O'er	the	German	foam	;
	O'er	the	Danish	moorlands,
	From	thy	frozen	home.
	Tired	we	are	of	summer	;
	Tired	of	gaudy	glare,
	Showers	soft	and	steaming,
	Hot	and	breathless	air	;
	Tired	of	listless	dreaming,
	Through	the	lazy	day	:
	Jovial	wind	of	winter,
	Turn	us	out	to	play	!
	Sweep	the	golden	reed	-beds	;
	Crisp	the	lazy	dyke	;
	Hunger	into	madness
	Every	plunging	pike.


BURIAL	OF	NAPOLEON	THE	FIRST	83
	Fair	these	broad	meads	these	hoary	woods
	are	grand	;
	But	we	are	exiles	from	our	fathers'	land.
	BURIAL	OF	NAPOLEON	THE	FIRST
	(December	15,	1840.)
	Cold	and	brilliant	streams	the	sunlight	on	the	wintry
	banks	of	Seine	;
	Gloriously	the	imperial	city	rears	her	pride	of	tower
	and	fane	;
	Solemnly	with	deep	voice	pealeth,	Notre	Dame,	thine
	ancient	chime	;
	Minute	guns	the	death-bell	answer	in	the	same	deep,
	measured	time.
	On	the	unwonted	stillness	gather	sounds	of	an	advan
	cing	host,
	As	the	rising	tempest	chafeth	on	St.	Helen's	far-off
	coast	;
	Nearer	rolls	a	mighty	pageant,	clearer	swells	the
	funeral	strain,
	From	the	barrier	arch	of	Neuilly	pours	the	giant	burial
	train.
	Dark	with	eagles	is	the	sunlight	darkly	on	the	golden
	air
	Flap	the	folds	of	faded	standards,	eloquently	mourning
	there	;


MOHAMMED
	(And	how	there	be	such	godless,	yea,	I	know	not	;
	Though	till	this	instant	was	I	one	of	them
	Wholly	;	as	now	in	ignorance	confess	d	!),
	Were	judgment	yet	to-come	and	God	afar	;
	His	speech	unheard	save	still	reported	to	them
	Through	all	their	days.	And	therefore	must	there	be
	Slaughter	and	rapine	in	the	name	of	God
	To	fix	faith,	as	I	find	it,	unto	all
	Who	feel	not	God.	And	therefore	were	it	meet
	That	these	within	their	graves	should	wait	till	God
	Alive	in	future	peoples	plough	their	bones
	Into	some	sudden	garden	where	was	waste	:
	And	end	earth	s	desolation.	Though	myself
	Have	had	some	resurrection	:	and	am	saved	!
	So	I	incline	and	pray	toward	Meccan	fanes.
	49


POEMS	OF	PERSONALITY
	Much	chastisement	and	mine	own	doom	at	last
	As	now	is	come	upon	me	Gladius
	Domini	super	t	err	am.	The	worst	wretch
	If	suddenly	possessed	by	gift	of	God
	With	faith	in	right	might	prophesy	as	well.
	That	were	the	only	gift,	the	faith	in	right.
	And	only	so	have	I	been	prophet	here.
	So	be	it.	I	man	to	man	resisted	firm
	The	oppression	of	the	powers	that	claim	d	from	God
	Power	superior	to	my	people	s	power
	Whereof	from	God	I	was	the	guardian.
	The	pettier	tyranny,	Lorenzo	s	rule,
	Foul	Piero	s	pretense,	I	spurn	d	to	oppose
	Directly	nor	countervail	by	counterplot,
	Save	as	I	served	Firenze	by	my	voice
	And	persevered	for	peace	if	honorable	;
	But	being	irreconcilable	to	death
	I	but	did	well	:	the	Medici	deserved	not.
	But	now	hath	been	the	Borgia,	he	who	claims
	The	Keys	of	Peter.	Did	I	well	with	him	?
	He	conquers	this	my	flesh	:	by	flesh	I	fight	not
	T	is	spirit	that	is	protagonist.	Yea,	shall
	He	conquer	then	my	soul	who	no	soul	hath	?
	I	stake	upon	the	proof	of	simony
	68


MOHAMMED	AHMED
	And	so	approach	the	perfect	spherical
	Which	heavenlike	is	my	soul	;	domed,	yea,	and	gold.
	Such	is	the	prophecy.	And	let	the	scribes
	Prepare	it	for	decree	publicly	read
	As	my	last	utterance	from	God	amending
	Those	earlier	prophecies	foregone	of	how
	Mine	end	were	elsewhere.	Ah,	but	even	at	once
	Mine	end	approacheth.	I	would	be	alone,
	Well	rid	of	earth,	with	Abdullahi	here
	(Son	of	my	spirit	!)	to	confer	on	him,
	Whilst	none	shall	witness,	my	firman	from	God.
	Are	we	alone	?	Friend	Abdullahi,	thou
	Knowest	how	I	have	longtime	sought	release
	From	this	hypocrisy	which	we	have	made
	My	pitiful	substance.	But	I	fear	d	the	fall,
	First,	of	myself	what	have	I	now	to	fear
	Who	feel	the	worst,	the	bitterness	of	death	?	-
	Then,	of	this	mighty	empire	we	have	rear	d
	In	men	s	credulity.	I	leave	to	thee
	A	dangerous	and	a	bitter	task	;	and	yet
	Somewise	an	easier.	For	myself	have	been,
	If	push	d	by	thee	yet	still	responsibly,
	The	main	impostor.	Thou	needst	but	adore
	163


IT	WAS	A	KNIGHT	OF	ARAGON.
	IT	WAS	A	KNIGHT	OF	ARAGON.
	"	Fuerte	qual	azero	entre	annas,
	Y	qual	cera	entre	las	damas."
	1.
	f]T	was	a	Knight	of	Aragon,
	And	he	was	brave	to	see,
	His	helmet	and	his	hauberk,
	And	the	greaves	upon	his	knee.
	His	escuderos	rode	in	front,
	His	cavaliers	behind,
	With	staine'd	plumes	and	gonfalons,
	And	music	in	the	wind.
	2.
	It	was	the	maid	Prudencia,
	The	lily	of	Madrid,
	Who	watched	him	from	her	balcony,
	Among	the	jasmines	hid.
	1	O	Virgin	Mother	!	'	quoth	the	Knight,
	Is	that	the	daybreak	there	?	'
	It	was	the	saintly	light	that	shone
	Above	the	maiden's	hair	!


THE	GIRLS.
	139
	THE	GIKLS.
	1.
	ARIAN,	May,	and	Maud
	Have	not	past	me	by,
	Arche'd	foot,	and	mobile	mouth,
	And	bronze-brown	eye	!
	When	my	hair	is	gray,
	Then	I	shall	be	wise	;
	Then,	thank	heaven	!	I	shall	not	care
	For	bronze-brown	eyes.
	3.
	Then	let	Maud	and	May
	And	Marian	pass	me	by	;
	So	they	do	not	scorn	me	now
	What	care	I	?


144	INTERLUDES.
	PALABRAS	CARIXOSAS.
	[SPANISH	AIR.]
	OOD-NIGHT	!	I	have	to	say	good-night
	To	such	a	host	of	peerless	things	!
	Good-night	unto	that	fragile	hand
	All	queenly	with	its	weight	of	rings	;
	Good-night	to	fond,	up-lifted	eyes,
	Good-night	to	chestnut	braids	of	hair,
	Good-night	unto	the	perfect	mouth,
	And	all	the	sweetness	nestled	there,
	The	snowy	hand	detains	me,	then
	I	'11	have	to	say	Good-night	again	!
	But	there	will	come	a	time,	my	love,
	"When,	if	I	read	our	stars	aright,
	I	shall	not	linger	by	this	porch
	With	my	adieus.	Till	then,	good-night	!
	You	wish	the	time	were	now	?	And	I.
	You	do	not	blush	to	wish	it	so	?
	You	would	have	blushed	yourself	to	death
	To	own	so	much	a	year	ago,
	What,	both	these	snowy	hands	!	ah,	then,
	I	'11	have	to	say	Good-night	again	!


I	7	a	THE	TRAGEDY.
	But	they	did	not	see	the	Tragedy,
	The	one	I	saw,	I	mean	!
	They	did	not	see	that	cold-cut	face,
	That	furtive	look	of	care	:
	Or,	seeing	her	jewels,	only	said,
	'	The	lady	J	s	rich	and	fair.'
	But	I	tell	you,	't	was	the	Play	of	Life,
	And	that	woman	played	Despair	!


KATHIE	MORRIS.	185
	11.
	And	then	I	turned	my	face	away,	and	trembled	at
	my	daring,
	For	wildly,	wildly	had	I	spoke,	with	flashing
	cheek	and	eye	;
	And	there	was	silence	;	I	looked	up,	all	pallid	and
	despairing,
	For	fear	she	'd	take	me	at	my	word,	and	leave	me
	there	to	die.
	12.
	The	modest	lashes	of	her	eyes	upon	her	cheeks
	were	dr6oping,
	Her	merciless	white	fingers	tore	a	blushing	bud
	apart	;
	Then,	quick	as	lightning,	Kathie	came,	and	kneel-
	ing	half	and	stooping,
	She	hid	her	bonny,	bonny	face	against	my	beating
	heart.
	13.
	O,	nestle,	nestle,	nestle	there	!	the	heart	would
	give	thee	greeting	;
	Lie	thou	there,	all	trustfully,	in	trouble	and	in
	pain;


xxx	BIOGRAPHICAL	NOTE.
	Civil	War	in	the	autobiographical	poem	Ad	Posteros
	(vol.	ii.,	p.	51).
	Vixi,	divisos	cum	fregerat	haeresis	Anglos
	Inter	Tysiphonas	presbyteri	et	populi.
	His	primum	miseris	per	amoena	furentibus	arva
	Prostravit	sanctam	vilis	avena	rosam.
	Turbanint	fontes,	et	fusis	pax	pent	undis,
	Moestaque	coelestes	obruit	umbra	dies.
	Duret	ut	integritas	tamen,	et	pia	gloria,	parlem
	Me	nullam	in	tanta	strage	fuisse,	scias	;
	Credidimus	nempe	insonti	vocem	esse	cruori,
	Et	vires	quae	post	funera	flere	docent.
	Hinc	castae,	fidaeque	pati	me	more	parentis
	Commonui,	et	lachrimis	fata	levare	meis	;
	Hinc	nusquam	horrendis	violavi	sacra	procellis,
	Nee	mihi	mens	unquam,	nee	manus	atra	fuit.
	The	natural	interpretation	of	this	certainly	is	that
	Vaughan	took	no	share	in	the	disturbances	of	his
	time,	except	to	grieve	over	them	in	retirement.	Yet,
	in	the	first	place,	the	lines	may	have	been	written
	l>efore	he	took	up	arms	in	1645,	anf	l,	in	the	second,
	they	may	only	mean	that	he	had	no	share	in	bringing
	about	the	troubles	of	England,	or	in	shedding
	innocent	blood.	Similarly	when	elsewhere,	as	in
	AbeCs	Blood	(vol.	i.	p.	254),	and	in	the	prayer	to
	l)e	quoted	below,	he	expresses	horror	of	blood	-
	guiltiness,	this	need	not	necessarily	be	taken	as
	extending	to	the	man	who	fights	in	a	righteous
	cause.
	Miss	Morgan,	I	may	add,	suggests	that	Vaughan
	was	at	Rowton	Heath,	not	as	a	combatant,	but	as	a


60	COMMENDATORY	VERSES.
	And	needest	not	this	noise	of	friends,	for	we
	Write	out	of	love,	not	thy	necessity.
	And	though	this	sullen	age	possessed	be
	With	some	strange	desamour	to	poetry,
	Yet	I	suspect	thy	fancy	so	delights
	The	Puritans	will	turn	thy	proselytes,
	And	that	thy	flame,	when	once	abroad	it	shines,
	Will	bring	thee	as	many	friends	as	thou	hast	lines.
	EUGENIUS	PHILALETHES,
	Oxoniensis.


i	$6	OLOR	IS	CAN	US.
	Whose	honest	wit,	and	chaste	discourse
	Make	none	by	hearing	it	the	worse,
	But	innocent	and	merry,	may
	Help	without	sin	to	spend	the	day.
	Could	now	the	tyrant	usurer,
	Who	plots	to	be	a	purchaser
	Of	his	poor	neighbour's	seat,	but	taste
	These	true	delights,	O	!	with	what	haste
	And	hatred	of	his	ways,	would	he
	Renounce	his	Jewish	cruelty,
	And	those	curs'd	sums,	which	poor	men	borrow
	On	use	to-day,	remit	to-morrow	!


158	OLOR	ISC	AN	US.
	VENERABILI	VIRO	PR^CEPTORI	SUC
	OLIM	ET	SEMPER	COLENDISSIMC
	MAGISTRO	MATH^O	HERBERT.
	QUOD	vixi,	Mathaee,	dedit	pater,	hoec	tamen	olim
	Vita	fluat,	nee	erit	fas	meminisse	datam.
	Ultra	curasti	solers,	perituraque	mecum
	Nomina	post	cineres	das	resonare	meos.
	Divide	discipulum	:	brevis	hcec	et	lubrica	nostri
	Pars	vertat	patri,	posthuma	vita	tibi.


302	FRAGMENTS	AND	TRANSLATIONS.
	7.	[MAXIMUS.]
	LIKE	some	fair	oak,	that	when	her	boughs
	Are	cut	by	rude	hands,	thicker	grows	;
	And	from	those	wounds	the	iron	made
	Resumes	a	rich	and	fresher	shade.
	3.	[GREGORY	NAZIANZEN.]
	PATIENCE	digesteth	misery.
	9.	[MARIUS	VICTOR.]
	They	fain	would	if	they	might
	Descend	to	hide	themselves	in	Hell.	So	light
	Of	foot	is	Vengeance	;	and	so	near	to	sin,
	That	soon	as	done,	the	actors	do	begin
	To	fear	and	suffer	by	themselves	:	Death	moves
	Before	their	eyes	;	sad	dens	and	dusky	groves
	They	haunt,	and	hope	vain	hope	which	Fear	doth
	guide	!
	That	those	dark	shades	their	inward	guilt	can	hide.
	10.	[INCERTL]
	BUT	night	and	day	doth	his	own	life	molest,
	And	bears	liis	judge	and	witness	in	his	breast.


SOUTHERN	STATES.
	21
	From	Hampton	Roads,	eight	miles,	Norfolk	lives	ever,
	Upon	Elizabeth's	fair,	flowing	river.
	Yorktown,	upon	York	river,	sits	alone,
	Where	Lord	Cornwallis	bowed	to	Washington.
	Worth	Carolina.
	Ra'-leigh,	in	the	interior	of	N.	C.,
	Nc-ar	river	Xeuse,	whose	waves	are	ever	free.
	Newbem,	the	largest	town,	stands	by	the	Neuse	;
	Of	Cape	Fear	river,	Fay'-ette-ville	makes	use.
	And	Wilmington	comes	in	the	stanza	next,
	Up	Cape	Fear	river,	miles	just	thirty-six.
	South	Carolina.
	Columbia	stands	upon	the	Con-ga-ree'	;
	And	Georgetown	dwells	upon	the	Great	Pedee',
	As	Charleston	lives	just	seven	miles	from	sea.
	Hamburg,	by	tue	Sa-vari	-nah,	keeps	her	station,
	Just	at	the	head	of	steamboat	navigation.
	Georgia.
	Where	rolls	O-cori-ee's	waves,	is	Mil'-ledge-ville	;
	Augusta,	where	Savannah's	waters	spill	;
	On	the	same	tide,	Savannah	mounts	her	bluff
	Say,	seventeen	from	sea,	for	that's	enough.
	Alabama.
	On	Alabama's	breast,	Montgomery	's	hung	;
	As	Tus-ca-loo'-sa	hears	Black	Warrior's	song.
	Mobile	is	west	the	mouth	of	Mobile	tide	;
	As	Blakely	lives	upon	the	other	side.
	Mississippi.
	Jackson,	in	Mississippi,	drinks	the	Pearl;
	Tiymltiybee'	8	waters	round	Columbus	furl	;
	And	Natchez	makes	a	rising	bluff	her	seat
	O'er	Mississippi's	wave,	three	hundred	feet
	On	the	same	tide,	below	the	dark	Yazoo,
	From	Jackson,	west,	Vicks-burgh	is	in	the	view.
	Louisiana.
	And	New	Or-leans'	o'er	Louisiana	smiles,
	Up	Mississippi's	stream,	one	hundred	miles.
	'Bove	New	Orleans	one	hundred,	ten,	at	most,	[1	10
	Is	Ba-ton	Rouge,	a	military	post.
	North	Carolina.
	Noted	for	its	Gold	Mines,	that	yield
	$4,000,000	annually	;	and,	also,	for	the	Dismal
	Swamp,	thirty	miles	long	and	ten	miles	wide.
	It	is	low	and	sandy,	for	sixty	or	seventy	miles
	from	the	coast.	In	the	interior,	it	is	hilly	;	and	in
	the	western	part	it	is	mountainous.
	This	State	has	no	good	harbors.	The	coast	is
	lined	with	sand	bars	and	reefs,	that	render	naviga
	tion	dangerous.
	RALEIGH,	near	ihe	center	of	the	State,	is	the	capital.
	Newbern	is	noted	as	ihe	largest	town	in	the	Slate.
	Wilmington,	the	chief	commercial	depot,	is	noted	as
	being	the	terminus	of	an	extensive	line	of	railroad.
	South	Carolina.
	The	smallest	of	the	Southern	States	;
	noted	for	the	opulence	and	independent	character
	of	its	planters.
	COLUMBIA,	the	capital.	i	noted	for	its	neatness.
	Charleston	is	noted	as	the	largest	of	the	Atlantic	cities
	in	itie	Southern	Slates.
	Georgia.
	Noted	for	its	productions	of	rice	and
	cotton,	as	well	as	for	gold	mines.	The	mines
	are	found	in	the	northern	part
	In	surface	and	soil,	it	resembles	the	Carolinas.
	Indigo	was	once	raised	in	large	quantities,	but
	cotton	has	now	taken	the	lead	of	all	other	products.
	Sugar	cane	is	raised	to	some	extent	in	the
	southern	part.
	MILLEDGKVILLK,	the	capital,	has	a	pleasant	situation.
	Savannah	is	noted	as	being	the	largest	town	in	the
	State,	and	as	having	a	large	share	of	commrrcc.
	Alabama.
	Noted	for	its	fertile	soil,	and	rapid	in
	crease	in	population.
	Cotton	is	the	chief	agricultural	product.
	MONTGOMERY,	on	the	Alabama	rivt-	r,	is	the	capital
	Mobile	is	noted	for	its	extensive	commerce.
	Tuscaloosa,	the	former	capital,	is	a	flourishing	town
	Mississippi.
	Situated	mostly	in	the	basin	of	the	Mis
	sissippi	river,	which	bounds	it	on	the	west
	It	is	noted	as	being	the	chief	cotton	growing	state
	in	the	Union.
	The	southern	portion	is	level,	and	the	northern
	mountainous.
	JACKSOX,	the	capital,	is	on	Pearl	river.
	Natche/,	the	largest	town,	audit	place	of	great	trade,
	is	situated	on	a	high	bluil',	300	feet	above	the	Missis
	sippi.
	Louisiana.
	Noted	for	its	great	commercial	advantages,
	and	as	the	chief	suga-	growing	state	in	the	Union.
	It	is	a	low	and	level	tract,	and	at	the	southern
	country,	and	are	kept	from	overflowing	by	levees.


26	POETICAL	GEOGRAPHY.
	Illinois.
	Illinois.
	Springfield	is	capital	of	Illinois,	(Illinoy)
	Where	river	San'-ga-mon	her	notes	employ.
	Chi-ca'-go	reigns	the	chief	of	all	the	clan,
	^~	'^lb
	With	Little	Fort	beside	Lake	Michigan.
	|H
	Lockport	and	Ju-li-et'	with	Dresden,	twain,
	J|B	SKj8BfflVi	i'	"i	JL
	Are	near	Chicago,	on	the	dark	Des	Plains.	(De	Plain)
	M
	And	Illinois,	to	Ot-ta-wa	may	roar,
	^jfjSK&
	Peru,	Pc-o-ri-a,	and	Ha-van-na	four	:
	ySfjj&iiJliuSf^^	-	BroSillliiJ	^%5^r
	Then	Beardstown	comes,	and	Mer-e-do-ia's	seen	;
	^y^^rTf^^StniinP^^^^^^^^'y^
	As,	east	this	tide,	is	Carrolton,	in	Greene.
	"	&^^?^R^*	t	>-^^^^w'^	x
	Prairie	on	Fire.
	,	Ga-le'-na,	noted	for	her	mines	of	lead,
	The	prairies	of	the	Western	Stale*	are	every	yeai
	Northwest	of	all,	by	Fever	River	bred,
	swept	over	by	fire.	The	view,	wlien	the	tall	grass	it
	thoroughly	dried	and	the	flames	;irc	aided	liy	a	strong
	wind,	is	one	truly	magnificent	ami	sublime.
	Rock	Island,	first	on	Mississippi	view,
	And	then	the	Mormon	city,	called	Nau-voo.
	Noted	for	rapid	increase	in	population,
	Then	Warsaw	comes,	and	Quincy	next	we	rhyme	;
	'	And	Al'-ton,	noted	for	her	coal	and	lime.
	and	great	fertility.
	Agriculture	is	the	chief	employment	of	the
	people.
	Kas-kas'-kia,	a	French	town	further	south,
	head	is	found	at	Galena,	in	the	N.	W.	part	of
	With	Cai	-ro	seated	by	Ohio's	mouth.
	the	state,	in	great	abundance.
	The	canal,	connecting	Lake	Michigan	with	the
	Anr1	Shelby	ville,	Vandalia,	and	Carlisle,
	Illinois	river,	is	now	complete.
	Along	the	banks	of	fair	Kaskaskia	smile.
	Monmouth	and	Knoxville	near	each	other	rart;
	PmtNGFiELD.	live	eapiral.	is	on	the	Snngninon	river.
	Chicago,	one	of	the	largest	towns	in	the	West,	is
	Macon	and	Carthage,	from	Peoria,	west.
	And	Kushville,	Woodville,	and	Columbus,	throng;
	at	the	head	of	Lake	Micliigan.
	Nauvoo.	on	the	Mississippi,	is	noted	as	the	Mormon
	Citv.
	Near	(Quincy,	is	the	place	they	all	belong.
	Alton	is	noted	for	its	coal	and	lime.
	From	Springfield,	west,	has	Jacksonville	her	fare	;
	Gulenu	for	its	lead	mine*.
	Known	for	the	college	that	is	stationed	there.
	And,	by	the	Wabasfi,	Danville	sits	her	down;
	While,	on	the	Ohio	tide,	is	Shawneetown
	p
	Missouri
	Missouri.
	The	largest	state	in	the	union,	with	the
	exception	of	Texas,	and	noted	for	its	great	mine*
	And	Jefferson	City	on	a	high	bluff	smiles,
	ral	resources.
	This	state	lies	west	of	the	Mississippi,	and	is
	Up	the	Missouri	tide	twice	sixty	miles,	(120)
	intersected	from	west	to	east	by	the	Missouri
	On	the	same	tide,	just	twenty	from	its	mouth,
	river,	the	great	tributary	of	the	Mississippi.
	The	mines	of	lead,	iron,	salt,	coal,	&c.,	are
	St.	Charles	is	on	the	north	bank,	not	the	south,
	inexhaustible,	and	constitute	the	wealth	of	the
	And	Independence,	west	of	all	hath	laid,	her,
	From	whence	for	Santa	Fe,	leaves	many	a	trader.
	state.
	Iron	Mountain	is	a	mass	of	pure	iron,	350	feet
	high,	and	two	miles	in	circuit.	Pilot	Knob	is
	St.	Louis,	on	the	Mississippi	's	seen,
	another	mass	600	feet	high,	and	three	miles	in
	circuit.
	1	Down	from	Missouri's	mouth	miles	seventeen,
	From	New	Orleans,	twelve	hundred	up	the	tide,
	)	Missouri's	largest	town,	Missouri's	pride.
	JEFFERSON	CITT,	the	capital,	is	on	a	high
	bluff,	one	hundred	ar.d	twenty	miles	up	the	Mis
	souri	river.
	And	from	St.	Louis,	seventy	miles	southwest,
	Po-to'-siTives,	known	for	her	lead	the	best.
	St.	Louis	is	one	of	the	largest	towns	in	the
	Western	States,	and	bids	fair	to	become	one	of
	the	first	in	the	union.
	*	Pronounced	in	English	Po-to'-ti;	in	Spanith,	Po-to-*i',


COME,	SLEEP,	O	SLEEP.
	A	rosy	garland,	and	a	weary	head.
	And	if	these	things,	as	being	thine	by	right,
	Move	not	thy	heavy	grace,	thou	shalt	in	me
	Livelier	than	elsewhere	Stella's	image	see.
	Having	this	day	my	horse,	my	hand	my	lance
	Guided	so	well,	that	I	obtain'd	the	prize,
	Both	by	the	judgment	of	the	English	eyes,
	And	of	some	sent	from	that	sweet	enemy	France	;
	Horsemen	my	skill	in	horsemanship	advance	;
	Townfolks	my	strength	;	a	daintier	judge	applies
	His	praise	to	sleight	which	from	good	use	doth	rise	;
	Some	lucky	wits	impute	it	but	to	chance	;
	Others,	because	of	both	sides	I	do	take
	My	blood	from	them	who	did	excel	in	this,
	Think	Nature	me	a	man	of	arms	did	make.
	How	far	they	shot	awry	!	the	true	cause	is,
	Stella	look'd	on,	and	from	her	heavenly	face
	Sent	forth	the	beams	which	made	so	fair	my	race.
	SIR	PHILIP	SIDNEY


THE	RELIGIOUS	VIEWS	OF	BJORNSON	AND	IBSEN	321
	Worlds	are	opened	and	are	closed
	In	the	new	thy	light	is	flowing,
	Thou,	who	wast	and	art	and	shalt	be!"
	(From	the	cantata:	Light.)
	And	in	the	following	hymn,	vibrating	with	religious	feeling,f	he
	tries	to	give	utterance	to	the	thoughts	that	assail	him,	when	confronted
	with	God	everywhere	in	the	world:
	"Who	art	thou	with	the	numerous	names
	From	thousands	of	ages	and	tongues?
	Thou	wast	refuge	to	us	in	our	need,
	Thou	wast	hope	to	the	people	oppressed,
	Thou	wast	guest	in	the	chamber	of	death,
	Thou	wast	sunshine	in	gladness	of	life!
	Still	thy	image	we	varyingly	form,
	And	we	call	every	view	revelation,
	And	each	person	thinks	his	is	the	true	one,
	Till	it	bursts	in	a	painful	experience.
	Oh,	but	be	whom	thou	wilt,
	For	I	know	that	thou	art
	As	the	eternal	cry	in	my	soul	it	is	Thou!
	For	justice	and	light,
	For	triumph	of	right,
	In	its	power	revealed	it	is	Thou!	it	is	Thou!
	All	the	laws	which	we	see
	Or	conceive	of,	and	those
	Which	we	never	shall	dream	of	at	all	it	is	Thou!
	And	their	protecting	care
	Round	my	life	they	have	laid,
	And	it	sings	in	my	heart	it	is	Thou!	it	is	Thou."
	Even	the	spirits,	so	deeply	despised	by	him,	find	favor	in	his	sight,
	when	he	exclaims	in	"The	King":
	"The	spirit-world's	society
	Surrounds,	like	clouds,	our	life."
	"Rejoice,	rejoice	triumphal	peals!
	Crowds	of	spirits	cleave	the	air,
	And	it	glitters,	as,	in	sunshine,	snowlike	shores."
	When	the	young	king's	soul	is	carried	home,	the	choir	sings:
	"Look	around	thee,
	See	the	flock	that	did	surround	thee,
	When	the	truth	was	in	thy	heart,	was	in	thy	deed."
	21


258	PORTRAITS	AND	SKETCHES
	occasionally	from	the	sober	decorum	of	his	verses.
	In	an	epistle	to	his	friend	Betton,	high	sheriff	of
	the	county,	who	had	sent	to	him	for	a	peck	of	seed-
	corn,	he	says	:
	"	Soon	plantin'	time	will	come	again,
	Syne	may	the	heavens	gie	us	rain,
	An'	shining	heat	to	bless	ilk	plain
	An'	fertile	hill,
	An'	gar	the	loads	o'	yellow	grain,
	Our	garrets	fill.
	"	As	long	as	I	hae	food	and	clothing,
	An'	still	am	hale	and	fier	and	breathing,
	Ye	's	get	the	corn	and	may	be	aething
	Ye	'11	do	for	me	;
	(Though	God	forbid)	hang	me	for	naething
	An'	lose	your	fee."
	And	on	receiving	a	copy	of	some	verses	written	by
	a	lady,	he	talks	in	a	sad	way	for	a	Presbyterian
	deacon	:
	"	Were	she	some	Aborigine	squaw,
	Wha	sings	so	sweet	by	nature's	law,
	I	'd	meet	her	in	a	hazle	shaw,
	Or	some	green	loany,
	And	make	her	tawny	phiz	and	'a
	My	welcome	crony."
	The	practical	philosophy	of	the	stout,	jovial
	rhymer	was	but	little	affected	by	the	sour-featured
	asceticism	of	the	elder.	He	says	:
	"	We	'11	eat	and	drink,	and	cheerful	take
	Our	portions	for	the	Donor's	sake,
	For	thus	the	Word	of	Wisdom	spake
	Man	can't	do	better	;
	Nor	can	we	by	our	labors	make
	The	Lord	our	debtor."
	A	quaintly	characteristic	correspondence	in
	rhyme	between	the	Deacon	and	Parson	McGregore,


ROBERT	DIN	SHORE	259
	evidently	"	birds	o'	ane	feather,"	is	still	in	exist-
	ence.	The	minister,	in	acknowledging	the	epistle
	of	his	old	friend,	commences	his	reply	as	follows	:
	"	Did	e'er	a	cuif	tak'	up	a	quill,
	Wha	ne'er	did	aught	that	he	did	well,
	To	gar	the	muses	rant	and	reel,
	An'	flaunt	and	swagger,
	Nae	doubt	ye	'11	say	't	is	that	daft	chiel
	Old	Dite	McGregore	!	"
	The	reply	is	in	the	same	strain,	and	may	serve
	to	give	the	reader	some	idea	of	the	old	gentleman
	as	a	religious	controversialist	:
	"	My	reverend	friend	and	kind	McGregore,
	Although	thou	ne'er	was	ca'd	a	hragger,
	Thy	muse	I	'm	sure	nane	e'er	was	glegger
	Thy	Scottish	lays
	Might	gar	Socinians	fa'	or	stagger,
	E'en	in	their	ways.
	'	'	When	Unitarian	champions	dare	thee,
	Goliah	like,	and	think	to	scare	thee,
	Dear	Davie,	fear	not,	they	'11	ne'er	waur	thee	;
	But	draw	thy	sling,
	Weel	loaded	frae	the	Gospel	quarry,
	An'	gie	't	a	fling."
	The	last	time	I	saw	him,	he	was	chaffering	in	the
	market-place	of	my	native	village,	swapping	pota-
	toes	and	onions	and	pumpkins	for	tea,	coffee,	mo-
	lasses,	and,	if	the	truth	be	told,	New	England	rum.
	Threescore	years	and	ten,	to	use	his	own	words,
	"	Hung	o'er	his	back,
	And	bent	him	like	a	muckle	pack,"
	yet	he	still	stood	stoutly	and	sturdily	in	his	thick
	shoes	of	cowhide,	like	one	accustomed	to	tread	in-
	dependently	the	soil	of	his	own	acres,	his	broad,
	honest	face	seamed	by	care	and	darkened	by	ex-


"	And	straight	before	him	lay	a	dusty	heap
	Of	ancient	legers,	books	of	evidence,
	Old	blazon'd	pedigrees	and	antique	rolls,
	(Which	made	the	son	full	oft	beget	the	father,
	And	give	to	maiden	ladies	fruitful	issue,)
	Torn	parish	registers,	probates	and	testaments
	From	which,	with	cunning	art	and	sage	contrivance,
	He	fairly	culled	divers	pedigrees	.
	he	knows
	The	reverence	due	to	hoar	antiquity,
	Nor	DUGDALE	scorns,	nor	CAMDEN'S	learned	page."
	R.	Surtees,	Esq.


io	ANDRE	W	MAR	VELL	.
	TOM	MAY'S	DEATH.
	As	one	put	drunk	into	the	packet-boat,
	TOM	MAY	was	hurried	thence,	and	did	notknow't	;
	But	was	amazed	on	the	Elysian	side,
	And,	with	an	eye	uncertain	gazing	wide,
	Could	not	determine	in	what	place	he	was,
	(For	whence,	in	Steven's	alley,	trees	or	grass	?)
	Nor	where	the	Pope's	Head,	nor	the	Mitre	lay,
	Signs	by	which	still	he	found	and	lost	his	way.
	At	last,	while	doubtfully	he	all	compares,
	He	saw	near	hand,	as	he	imagined,	ARES.	io
	Such	did	he	seem	for	corpulence	and	port,
	But	'twas	a	man	much	of	another	sort	;
	'Twas	BEN,	that	in	the	dusky	laurel	shade,
	Amongst	the	chorus	of	old	poets,	laid,
	Sounding	of	ancient	heroes,	such	as	were
	The	subject's	safety,	and	the	rebel's	fear	;
	And	how	a	double-headed	vulture	eats
	BRUTUS	and	CASSIUS,	the	people's	cheats	;
	But,	seeing	MAY,	he	varied	straight	his	song,
	Gently	to	signify	that	he	was	wrong.	20
	Cups	more	than	civil	of	Emathian	wine,
	I	sing	(said	he)	and	the	Pharsalian	sign,


88	ANDREW	MARVELL.
	Over	the	whole.	The	elect	of	the	Jessean	line
	To	this	firm	law	their	sceptre	did	resign	;
	And	shall	this	base	tyrannic	brood	invade
	Eternal	laws,	by	God	for	mankind	made	?
	To	the	serene	Venetian	state	I'll	go,
	From	her	sage	mouth	famed	principles	to	know	;
	With	her	the	prudence	of	the	ancients	read,
	To	teach	my	people	in	their	steps	to	tread	;
	By	their	great	pattern	such	a	state	I'll	frame,
	Shall	eternize	a	glorious	lasting	name.	160
	Till	then,	my	Raleigh,	teach	our	noble	youth
	To	love	sobriety,	and	holy	truth	;
	Watch	and	preside	over	their	tender	age,
	Lest	Court	corruption	should	their	souls	engage	;
	Teach	them	how	arts,	and	arms,	in	thy	young	days,
	Employed	our	youth,	not	taverns,	stews,	and	plays	;
	Tell	them	the	generous	scorn	their	race	does	owe
	To	flattery,	pimping,	and	a	gaudy	show	;
	Teach	them	to	scorn	the	Carwells,	Portsmouths,
	Nells,
	The	Clevelands,	O[sbor]nes,	Berties,	Lauderdales	:	170
	Poppaea,	Tigelline,	and	Asteria's	name,
	All	yield	to	these	in	lewdness,	lust,	and	fame.
	Make	them	admire	the	Talbots,	Sydneys,	Veres,
	Drake,	Cavendish,	Blake,	men	void	of	slavish	fears,
	True	sons	of	glory,	pillars	of	the	state,
	On	whose	famed	deeds	all	tongues	and	writers	wait.
	169.	Madame	"Carwell"	is	the	same	as	the	Duchess	of
	Portsmouth.	"	Nell	"	is	Nell	Gwyn.


181
	DUETT	PHILLY	AND	WILLY.
	BURNS.
	TUNE	TVte	Sow'*	Tail.
	HE.
	O	PHILLY,	happy	be	that	day,
	When,	roving	through	the	gather'd	hay,
	My	youthfu'	heart	was	stown	away,
	And	by	thy	charms,	my	Philly.
	SHE.
	O,	Willy,	aye	I	bless	the	grove,
	Where	first	I	own'd	my	maiden	love,
	Whilst	thou	didst	pledge	the	Powers	above,
	To	be	my	ain	dear	Willy.
	HE.
	As	songsters	of	the	early	year
	Are	ilka	day	more	sweet	to	hear,
	So	ilka	day	to	me	more	dear
	And	charming	is	my	Philly.
	SHE.
	As	on	the	brier	the	budding	rose
	Still	richer	breathes,	and	fairer	blows,
	So	in	my	tender	bosom	grows
	The	love	I	bear	my	Willy.
	HE.
	The	milder	sun	and	bluer	sky,
	That	crown	my	harvest	cares	wi'	joy,
	Were	ne'er	so	welcome	to	my	eye
	As	is	a	sight	o'	Philly.
	SHE.
	The	little	swallow's	wanton	wing,
	Though	wafting	o'er	the	flow'ry	spring,
	Did	ne'er	to	me	sic	tidings	bring
	As	meeting	o'	my	Willy.
	HE.
	The	bee	that,	through	the	sunny	hour,
	Sips	nectar	in	the	opening	flower,


197
	But	thus,	puir	thing,	to	lose	her	life,
	Beneath	a	bluidy	villain's	knife	;
	In	troth,	I	fear	that	our	gudewife
	Will	never	get	abune	't	ava.
	O,	all	ye	bards	benorth	Kinghorn,
	Call	up	your	muses,	let	them	mourn
	Our	ewie	wi'	the	crookit	horn,
	Frae	us	stown,	and	fell'd	and	a'	!
	MEG	O'	THE	MILL.
	BURNS.
	T	UNE	O	bonnie	Jass,	if	ill	you	lie	in	a	barrack.
	O,	KEN	ye	what	Meg	o'	the	Mill	has	gotten,
	An'	ken	ye	what	Meg	o'	the	Mill	has	gotten	?
	She	has	gotten	a	coof	wi'	a	claut	o'	siller,
	And	broken	the	heart	o'	the	barley	miller.
	The	miller	was	strapping	the	miller	was	ruddy	;
	A	heart	like	a	lord,	and	a	hue	like	a	lady	:
	The	laird	was	a	wuddiefu'	bleerit	knurl	;
	She's	left	the	guid	fallow,	and	ta'en	the	churl.
	The	miller	he	hecht	her	a	heart	leal	and	loving	:
	The	laird	did	address	her	wi'	matter	mair	moving	;
	A	fine	pacing-horse	wi'	a	clear-chain'd	bridle,
	A	whip	by	her	side,	and	a	bonny	side-saddle.
	O	wae	on	the	siller,	it's	sae	prevailing	;
	And	wae	on	the	love	that's	fix'd	on	a	mailin'	!
	A	tocher's	nae	word	in	a	true	lover's	parle.
	But,	Gie	me	my	love,	and	a	fig	for	the	warl	!


189
	Join	in	my	work,	and	to	my	numbers	bring
	Your	needful	succour,	for	your	gifts	I	sing.
	VIRGIL.
	387	-	or	of	Delia's	train
	Diana	is	so	called	from	Delos,	the	chief	island
	of	the	Cyclades,	in	the	Archipelago,	where	she
	was	born	;	she	is	the	daughter	of	Jupiter	and
	Latona.	The	Oreads	and	Dryads	were	her
	attendants,	she	is	fabled	as	the	moon,	and	Delia's
	train	represents	the	other	planets,	that	is,	the
	nymphs	feigned	to	attend	Diana.	She	is	likewise
	the	goddess	of	hunting.
	393	To	Pales
	The	goddess	of	sheepfolds	and	of	pastures
	among	the	Romans,	she	was	worshipped	with
	great	solemnity	at	Rome,	and	her	festivals	are
	called	Palila,	celebrated	the	day	that	Romulus
	began	to	lay	the	foundation	of	the	city	of
	Rome.
	Thy	fields,	propitious	Pales,	I	rehearse	;
	And	sing	thy	pastures	in	no	vulgar	verse,
	Amphrysian	shepherd	!	the	Lycsen	woods,
	Arcadia's	flow'ry	plains,	and	pleasing	floods.
	All	other	themes,	that	careless	minds	invite,
	Are	worn	with	use,	unworthy	me	to	write.
	VIRGIL,	G.	3rd.
	394	-	Pomona	when	she	fled
	Pomona,	a	nymph	at	Rome,	who	was	sup
	posed	to	preside	over	gardens,	and	to	be	the
	goddess	of	all	sorts	of	fruit	trees.	She	had	a
	temple	at	Rome,	and	a	regular	priest	called
	Flamen	Pomonalis,	who	offered	sacrifices	to	her
	divinity	for	the	preservation	of	fruit.


MAUDS	WEDDING	DAY.
	She	sleeps	in	the	silent	ferns,	Maud,	that	you
	planted	on	the	hill,
	And	I	ll	soon	be	lying	beside	her,	if	gracious
	Heaven	will,
	And	I	m	not	such	a	brute	of	a	father,	to	spoil
	my	Maud	s	birthright
	For	the	few	short	years	of	evening,	before	I	bid
	her	good	night	;
	For	William	s	a	fine-built	fellow	with	a	strong
	and	manly	face,
	And	he	ll	be	good	to	you,	Maud,	and	he	comes
	of	a	goodly	race.
	You	love	him,	you	say,	and	he	s	noble	and
	loyal	and	tender	and	true,
	And	I	love	him,	too,	my	child,	almost	as	dear
	ly	as	you	;
	So	blessings	on	both	forever,	for	tomorrow	s
	the	wedding	day,
	And	it	matters	little	how	soon	now	the	shad
	ows	creep	this	way.
	But	when	the	first	babe	comes,	Maud,	remem
	ber	us	cheerily,
	And	nestle	it	soft	in	the	ferns,	Dear,	for	the
	sake	of	mother	and	me.


THE	INVALID.
	There	a	father	with	light	in	his	face	and	the
	pride	of	his	life	on	his	knee,
	Looks	Fate	in	the	face	serenely.	His	race
	continues	to	be.
	His	name	will	be	heard	for	ages,	in	honor	and
	blessing	and	praise,
	And	his	deeds	will	be	cherished	and	told
	through	all	the	coming	days.
	And	a	part	of	his	soul	will	live,	in	an	everlast
	ing	life,
	Victorious	over	death	in	the	never-ending
	strife,
	But	my	race	must	perish,	at	last,	and	none	will
	weep	for	me,
	If	I	overlive	the	few	who	have	loved	me	faith
	fully.
	Turn	mad	?	And	berate	the	world	?	And
	curse	the	living	and	dead	?
	Because	they	gave	me	a	stone,	when	I	wanted
	only	bread	?
	O	not	while	the	world	has	love	and	peace	for
	the	many,	shall	I
	Despair	of	the	far	event,	though	I	may	be
	doomed	to	die	!
	XI


VIRGINIUS.
	Too	young	to	guard	herself,	too	old	for	the	law	s
	defense,
	A	fresh	young	partridge	to	him,	just	fatted	to
	please	his	sense.
	Why	didn	t	he	kill	her,	and	end	forever	her
	blighted	life	?
	Or	why	did	not	I,	a	belated	Virginius,	give
	her	to	wife
	In	the	land	of	shadows	and	ghosts	to	the	skele
	ton	arms	of	Death	?
	A	kindlier	fate	than	to	live,	with	the	withering
	poisoned	breath
	Of	social	scandal	upon	her,	a	mark	for	lascivi
	ous	eyes,
	The	talk	of	the	town,	till	the	next	that	falls	an
	unguarded	prize
	In	the	confidence	game	of	life,	where	honor	is
	all	in	all
	In	a	woman	s	lily	soul,	its	loss	the	bitterest
	gall-
	But	man,	the	superior	brute,	counts	honor	ser
	vility,
	The	badge	of	a	slavish	soul	ashamed	or	afraid
	to	be	free.
	35


TO	A	RISING	STAR.
	DEAUTIFUL	Star	that	shlnest	on	me
	Out	of	thy	East	all	gloriously
	Lift	me	out	of	myself	to	thee	!
	Thou	art	but	a	star,	and	less	than	me
	Who	am	greater	than	all	things	else	that	be
	On	earth,	or	in	heaven,	or	under	the	sea	!
	I	know	thou	art	dust	and	of	little	worth
	A	glittering	waste,	a	lifeless	dearth
	As	dull	and	dead	as	this	bulky	earth	!
	118


Madeleine	de	Vercheres	29
	Never,	in	the	days	to	come,	when	Canada	is	great	and	proud,
	Be	it	said	a	Christian	maiden	by	a	heathen's	threat	was	cowed.
	XI
	"	He	is	but	a	craven	wretch	would	bid	me	yield	in	such	an
	hour
	Never	yet	my	country's	sons	in	peril's	face	were	known	to
	cower	!
	No,	my	people!	God	is	with	us;	'tis	our	homes	that	we
	defend
	Let	the	savage	do	his	worst,	we	will	oppose	him	to	the	end.
	XII
	"	Women,	I	am	but	a	girl,	but	hero's	blood	is	in	my	veins,
	And	I	will	shed	it	drop	by	drop	before	I	see	my	land	in	chains;
	Let	them	tear	me	limb	from	limb,	or	strew	my	ashes	to	the
	wind,
	Ere	I	disgrace	the	name	I	bear,	or	leave	a	coward's	fame
	behind.
	XIII
	"	Brothers	mine,	though	young	in	years	you	are	old	enough
	to	know
	That	to	shed	your	blood	is	noble,	fighting	with	your	country's
	foe!
	Be	the	lesson	unforgotten	that	our	noble	father	gave,
	Whether	glory	be	its	guerdon,,	or	it	wins	us	but	a	grave.
	XIV
	"	Come,	my	people,	take	your	places,	every	one	as	duty	calls;
	Death	to	every	foe	who	ventures	to	approach	these	fortress
	walls	!
	Let	no	point	be	unprotected,	leave	the	rest	to	God	on	high,
	Then	we	shall	have	done	our	duty,	even	if	we	have	to	die."
	xv
	Thus	she	braced	their	drooping	courage,	matchless	maiden,
	Madeleine;
	And	the	cry,	"	to	arms!	"	re-echoed,	till	the	roof-trees	rang
	again;
	Cannons	thundered,	muskets	rattled,	and	the	clank	of	steel
	was	heard,
	Till	the	baffled	foe	retreated,	like	a	wolf	untimely	scared.


A	Prairie	Heroine	61
	A	PRAIRIE	HEROINE
	THEY	were	running	out	the	try	lines,	they	were	staking	out
	the	grade;
	Through	the	hills	they	had	to	measure,	through	the	sloughs
	they	had	to	wade;
	They	were	piercing	unknown	regions,	they	were	crossing	name
	less	streams,
	With	the	prairie	for	a	pillow,	and	the	sky	above	their	dreams;
	They	were	mapping	unborn	cities	in	the	age-long	pregnant
	clay,
	When	they	came	upon	a	little	mound	across	the	right-of-way.
	There	were	violets	growing	on	it,	and	a	buttercup	or	two,
	That	whispered	of	affection	ever	old	and	ever	new,
	And	a	little	ring	of	white-washed	stones,	light	in	the	summer
	sun,
	But	of	marble	slab	or	granite,	pile	or	pillar,	there	was	none;
	And	across	the	sleeping	prairie	lay	a	little,	low-built	shack,
	With	a	garden	patch	before	it	and	a	wheat-field	at	its	back.
	"	Well,	boys,	we'd	better	see	him,	and	he	hadn't	ought	to	kick,
	For	we'll	give	him	time	to	move	it	if	he	does	it	pretty	quick."
	But	scarcely	had	the	foreman	spoke	when	straight	across
	the	farm
	They	saw	the	settler	coming	with	a	rifle	on	his	arm;
	Some	would	ha'	hiked	for	cover	but	they	had	no	place	to	run,
	But	most	of	them	decided	they	would	stay	and	see	the	fun.
	The	farmer	was	the	first	to	speak,	"	I	hate	to	interfere,
	And	right	glad	I	am	to	see	the	railway	comin'	near;
	But	before	you	drive	your	pickets	across	this	piece	of	land
	You	ought	to	hear	the	story	or	you	will	not	understand	:
	It's	the	story	of	a	girl	who	was	as	true	as	she	was	brave,
	And	all	that	now	remains	of	her	is	in	that	little	grave.
	"	I	didn't	want	to	bring	her	when	I	hit	the	trail	out	West,
	I	knew	I	shouldn't	do	it,	and	I	did	my	level	best
	To	coax	her	not	to	come	out	for	a	year	or	two,	at	least,
	But	to	stay	and	take	it	easy	with	her	friends	down	in	the
	East;


The	Trail	of	Gold	73
	THE	TRAIL	OF	GOLD
	UNDER	the	ward	of	the	Polar	Sea,
	Where	the	great	Auroras	snap	and	blaze,
	There	are	crashing	blows	on	the	icy	bar
	That	is	set	at	the	end	of	the	open	ways.
	There	are	axes	ringing	across	the	crest,
	The	sluices	shackle	the	streams	that	rolled,
	As	the	gamesters	gather	from	east	and	west,
	The	men	that	follow	the	Trail	of	Gold,
	A	black	line	crawls	o'er	the	glacier's	face,
	Where	the	worn	pack-horses	scrape	and	slide;
	The	muskeg	swallows	and	leaves	no	trace,
	The	boats	go	down	on	the	snow-swelled	tide,-
	Blood	and	bones	on	the	snow	and	sod,
	From	the	canons	black	to	the	barrens	gray,
	Blaze	the	trail	that	the	vanguard	trod,
	That	those	who	follow	may	find	the	way.
	There	are	strange	ships	west	of	the	lonely	isles
	Where	the	red	volcanoes	burn	and	freeze;
	There's	a	fading	wake	o'er	the	misty	miles,
	There	are	smokes	that	trouble	the	Smoky	Seas	s
	There	are	corpses	swept	from	the	sinking	hull,
	As	the	steamer	dips	to	the	swelling	gale,
	For	the	rising	shark	and	the	wheeling	gull
	That	hunt	the	sea	on	the	Golden	Trail.
	The	storm	sweeps	out	from	its	Polar	den,
	Till	the	air	grows	dense	with	the	cutting	snow;
	The	north	makes	mock	of	the	sons	of	men,
	As	the	diggers	lie	in	the	drifts	below.
	The	workers	lie	where	the	last	work	ceased,
	The	strong	men	scatter	the	lifeless	wold;
	And	the	tall	wolves	howl	at	the	gathered	feast
	The	hounds	that	hunt	on	the	Scent	of	Gold.
	FRANK	L.	POLLOCK.


Suttee	321
	When	shall	these	phantoms	flicker	away?
	Like	the	smoke	of	the	gun	on	the	wind-swept	hill,
	Like	the	sounds	and	colours	of	yesterday:
	And	the	soul	have	rest	and	the	air	be	still.
	SIR	ALFRED	COMYN	LYALL.
	THE	PURDAH	NASHIN	1
	HER	life	is	a	revolving	dream
	Of	languid	and	sequestered	ease	;
	Her	girdles	and	her	fillets	gleam
	Like	changing	fires	on	sunset	seas;
	Her	raiment	is	like	morning	mist,
	Shot	opal,	gold,	and	amethyst.
	From	thieving	light	of	eyes	impure,
	From	coveting	sun	or	wind's	caress,
	Her	days	are	guarded	and	secure
	Behind	her	carven	lattices,
	Like	jewels	in	a	turbaned	crest,
	Like	secrets	in	a	lover's	breast.
	But	though	no	hand	unsanctioned	dares
	Unveil	the	mysteries	of	her	grace,
	Time	lifts	the	curtain	unawares,
	And	sorrow	looks	into	her	face
	Who	shall	prevent	the	subtle	years,
	Or	shield	a	woman's	eyes	from	tears?
	SUTTEE
	LAMP	of	my	life,	the	lips	of	Death
	Have	blown	thee	out	with	their	sudden	breath;
	Naught	shall	revive	thy	vanished	spark
	Love,	must	I	dwell	in	the	living	dark?
	Tree	of	my	life,	Death's	cruel	foot
	Hath	crushed	thee	down	to	thy	hidden	root;
	Naught	shall	restore	thy	glory	fled
	Shall	the	blossom	live	when	the	tree	is	dead	?
	1	Purda	women,	or	women	of	the	curtain.


2	SOflfiS	Qg	THE	COWBOYS
	;$a	jing,:	"K)&gt;v	6,0	I	look	in	my	new	brown	suit,
	Witti	my	pants	stuffed	down	in	the	top	of	my	boot	?	"
	Now,	I	think	it	s	quite	time	to	leave	off	these
	lads,
	For	here	are	some	girls	that	s	fully	as	bad;
	They	ll	trim	up	their	dresses	and	curl	up	their
	hair,
	And	like	an	old	owl	fore	the	looking-glass	stare.
	The	girls	in	the	country	they	grin	like	a	cat,
	And	with	giggling	and	laughing	don	t	know	where
	they	re	at;
	They	think	they	re	pretty,	and	I	tell	you	they	re
	wise,
	But	they	could	n	t	get	married	to	save	their	two	eyes.
	You	can	tell	a	good	girl	wherever	she	s	found;
	No	trimming,	no	laces,	no	nonsense	around	;
	With	a	long-eared	bonnet	tied	under	her	chin,
	She	ll	marry	you	if	you	are	broke	or	if	you	have	the
	tin.
	They	ll	go	to	church	with	their	snuff-box	in	hand,
	They	ll	give	it	a	tap	to	make	it	look	grand;
	Perhaps	there	is	another	one	or	two
	And	they	ll	pass	it	around	and	it	s	"Madam,	won	t
	you?"
	Now,	I	think	it	s	quite	time	for	this	ditty	to	end;
	If	there	s	any	one	here	that	it	will	offend,
	If	there	s	any	one	here	that	thinks	it	amiss,
	Just	come	round	and	give	the	singer	a	kiss.


14	SONGS	OF	THE	COWBOYS
	But	now	he	s	sort	o	reconciled:	I	of	n	hear	him
	talk
	About	em	bein*	pedigreed	an	fanoy	blooded	stock;
	An*	though	he	yit	holds	to	it	that	I	played	it	rather
	bold,
	I	know	he	wouldn	t	part	with	one	fer	twice	its
	weight	in	gold.
	As	we	was	settin	here	last	night	a-talMn	bout	the
	day,
	An	all	that	we	was	thankful	fer,	I	said,	in	a	jokin
	way:
	"Now,	tell	me,	honest	Injun,	Jack,	dead	earnest
	an	fer	fair,
	If	you	ain	t	filled	with	gratitude	a-lookin	at	that
	pair?"
	He	gazed	down	at	the	sleepin	kids	a-layin*	side	by
	side,
	With	what	I	sort	o	magined	was	a	look	o	daddy
	pride.
	An	said:	"They	re	fine	as	silk	an	I	ain	t	makin
	any	roar,
	But	I	am	mighty	thankful	that	there	was	n	t	any
	more!"
	BUCKING	BRONCO
	By	Belle	Star,	Indian	Territory
	Written	about	1878.	Song	has	been	expurgated	by	me.
	The	author	was	a	member	of	a	notorious	gang	of	out-
	laws,	but	a	very	big-hearted	woman.	I	knew	her	well.
	My	love	is	a	rider,	wild	broncos	he	breaks,
	Though	he	s	promised	to	quit	it,	just	for	my	sake.


i8	SONGS	OF	THE	COWBOYS
	He	pulled	out	his	life-preserver	and	with	a	"	one,
	two,	three,	four,"
	Blotted	out	a	spot	with	every	pistol	roar;
	For	he	had	traveled	with	a	circus,	and	had	only	quit
	that	day.
	"I	have	one	more	left,	kind	sir,	if	you	wish	to	call
	the	play."
	Then	Hank	stepped	up	to	the	stranger,	and	this	is
	the	way	he	spoke	:
	"	Why,	the	lions	in	the	mountains	that	was
	nothing	but	a	joke	;
	Never	mind	about	the	extra	you	are	a	bad	shoot
	ing	man,
	And	I	m	a	meek	child	and	as	harmless	as	a	lamb."
	CALIFORNIA	TRAIL
	By	Kate	Childs	("Montana	Kate")
	Written	about	1869.	I	heard	it	sung	first	on	Pecos	River,
	at	Horse	Head	Crossing,	in	1900,	by	Sam	Murray.
	List,	all	you	California	boys,
	And	open	wide	your	ears,
	For	now	we	start	across	the	plains
	With	a	herd	of	mules	and	steers.
	Now	bear	in	mind,	before	you	start,
	That	you	ll	eat	jerked	beef,	not	ham,
	And	antelope	steak,	oh,	cuss	the	stuff!
	It	often	proves	a	sham.
	You	cannot	find	a	stick	of	wood
	On	all	this	prairie	wide;
	Whene	er	you	eat	you	ve	got	to	stand
	Or	sit	on	some	old	bull-hide.


84	SONGS	OF	THE	COWBOYS
	JOHN	GARNER	S	TRAIL	HERD
	Written	by	one	of	the	waggoners	at	Fort	Worthy	Texas,
	many	years	ago.	I	first	heard	it	sung	in	the	Spear	fish
	Valley,	Dakota.
	Come,	all	you	old-timers,	and	listen	to	my	song;
	I	ll	make	it	short	as	possible	and	I	ll	not	keep	you
	long;
	I	ll	relate	to	you	about	the	time	you	all	remember
	well
	When	we	with	old	Joe	Garner	drove	a	beef	herd	up
	the	trail.
	When	we	left	the	ranch	it	was	early	in	the	spring,
	We	had	as	good	a	corporal	as	ever	rope	did
	swing;
	Good	hands	and	good	horses,	good	outfit	through
	and	through,
	We	went	well	equipped,	we	were	a	jolly	crew.
	We	had	no	little	herd	two	thousand	head	or
	more
	And	some	as	wild	brush	beeves	as	you	ever	saw
	before.
	We	swung	to	them	all	the	way	and	sometimes	by
	the	tail,	-
	Oh,	you	know	we	had	a	circus	as	we	all	went	up	the
	traiL
	Till	we	reached	the	open	plains	everything	went
	well,
	And	then	them	cattle	turned	in	and	dealt	us	merry
	helL


VII.
	AHWART	the	ruddy	dawn
	The	singing	skylarks	soar.
	The	morning	mists	are	drawn
	Athwart	the	ruddy	dawn.
	The	peaceful	night	is	gone
	And	man	goes	forth	to	war.
	Athwart	the	ruddy	dawn
	The	singing	skylarks	soar.
	16


38	THE	TENT	ON	THE	BEACH.
	And	the	mountains	mystery	;
	And	the	hush	of	earth	and	air
	Seemed	the	pause	before	a	prayer,
	Prayer	for	him,	for	all	who	rest,
	Mother	Earth,	upon	thy	breast,
	Lapped	on	Christian	turf,	or	hid
	In	rock-cave	or	pyramid	:
	All	who	sleep,	as	all	who	live,
	Well	may	need	the	prayer,	"	Forgive	!	"
	Desert-smothered	caravan,
	Knee-deep	dust	that	once	was	man,
	Battle-trenches	ghastly	piled,
	Ocean-floors	with	white	bones	tiled,
	Crowded	tomb	and	mounded	sod,
	Dumbly	crave	that	prayer	to	God.


THE	GRAVE	BY	THE	LAKE.	4!
	Every	chain	that	spirits	wear
	Crumbles	in	the	breath	of	prayer	;
	And	the	penitent's	desire
	Opens	every	gate	of	fire.
	"	Still	Thy	love,	O	Christ	arisen,
	Yearns	to	reach	these	souls	in	prison	!
	Through	all	depths	of	sin	and	loss
	Drops	the	plummet	of	Thy	cross	!
	Never	yet	abyss	was	found
	Deeper	than	that	cross	could	sound	!	"
	Therefore	well	may	Nature	keep
	Equal	faith	with	all	who	sleep,
	Set	her	watch	of	hills	around
	Christian	grave	and	heathen	mound,
	And	to	cairn	and	kirkyard	send
	Summer's	flowery	dividend.


44	THE	TENT	ON	THE	BEACH.
	"	Pray,"	said	the	Man	of	Books,	"	give	o'er
	A	theme	too	vast	for	time	and	place.
	Go	on,	Sir	Poet,	ride	once	more
	Your	hobby	at	his	old	free	pace.
	But	let	him	keep,	with	step	discreet,
	The	solid	earth	beneath	his	feet.
	In	the	great	mystery	which	around	us	lies,
	The	wisest	is	a	fool,	the	fool	Heaven	helped	is	wise."
	The	Traveller	said	:	"	If	songs	have	creeds,
	Their	choice	of	them	let	singers	make	;
	But	Art	no	other	sanction	needs
	Than	beauty	for	its	own	fair	sake.
	It	grinds	not	in	the	mill	of	use,
	Nor	asks	for	leave,	nor	begs	excuse	;
	It	makes	the	flexile	laws	it	deigns	to	own,
	And	gives	its	atmosphere	its	color	and	its	tone.


THE	MANTLE	OF	ST.	JOHN	DE	MATHA.
	A	LEGEND	OF	"THE	RED,	WHITE,	AND	BLUE,"	A.	D.	1154-1864.
	A	STRONG	and	mighty	Angel,
	Calm,	terrible,	and	bright,
	The	cross	in	blended	red	and	blue
	Upon	his	mantle	white	!
	Two	captives	by	him	kneeling,
	Each	on	his	broken	chain,
	Sang	praise	to	God	who	raiseth
	The	dead	to	life	again	!
	Dropping	his	cross-wrought	mantle,
	"	Wear	this,"	the	Angel	said	;
	"Take	thou,	O	Freedom's	priest,	its	sign,
	The	white,	the	blue,	and	red."


140	THE	BOW	IN	THE	CLOUD.
	blessed	than	it	could	have	been	if	all	the	crowns	of
	earth	could	have	been	put	upon	its	head.	Where
	fore,	then,	could	you	complain	?	An	old	poet	has
	penned	a	verse	well-fitted	for	an	infant	s	epitaph:
	Short	was	my	life,	the	longer	is	my	rest;
	God	takes	those	soonest	whom	he	loveth	best;
	Who	s	born	to-day,	and	dies	to-morrow,
	Loses	some	hours	of	joy,	but	months	of	sorrow;
	Other	diseases	often	come	to	grieve	us,
	Death	strikes	but	once,	and	that	stroke	doth	relieve	us."
	Your	child	has	had	that	one	stroke	and	has	been
	relieved	from	all	these	pains,	and	you	may	say	of	it,
	This	much	we	know,	he	is	supremely	blessed,	has
	escaped	from	sin,	and	care,	and	woe,	and	with	the
	Saviour	rests.	"	Happy	the	babe,"	says	Hervey,
	"who,
	Privileged	by	faith,	a	shorter	labor	and	a	lighter	weight,
	Received	but	yesterday	the	gift	of	breath,
	Ordered	to-morrow	to	return	to	death."
	While	another	soys,	looking	upward	to	the	skies,
	"	O	blest	exchange,	O	envied	lot,
	Without	a	conflict	crowned,
	Stranger	to	pain,	in	pleasure	bless	d,
	And,	without	fame,	renowned."
	So	is	it.	It	is	well	to	fight	and	win,	but	to	win
	as	fairly	without	the	fight	!	It	is	well	to	sing	the
	song	of	triumph	after	we	have	passed	the	Eed	Sea
	with	all	its	terrors;	but	to	sing	the	song	without	the
	sea	is	more	glorious	still	!	I	do	not	know	that	I
	would	prefer	the	lot	of	a	child	in	heaven	myself.	I
	think	it	is	nobler	to	have	borne	the	storm,	and	to
	have	struggled	against	the	wind	and	the	rain.	I
	think	it	will	be	a	subject	of	congratulation	through
	eternity,	for	you	and	me,	that	we	did	not	come	so


The	Inevitable	67
	Unfailing,	unforbidden,
	And	on	lofty	couches.
	Of	a	rare	creation	have	we	created	the	Houris,
	And	we	have	made	them	ever	virgins,
	Dear	to	their	spouses,	of	equal	age	with	them,	1
	For	the	people	of	the	right	hand,
	A	crowd	of	the	former,
	And	a	crowd	of	the	latter	generations.	2
	40	But	the	people	of	the	left	hand	oh	!	how	wretched	shall
	be	the	people	of	the	left	hand	!
	Amid	pestilential	3	winds	and	in	scalding	water,
	And	in	the	shadow	of	a	black	smoke,
	Not	cool,	and	horrid	to	behold.	4
	For	they	truly,	ere	this,	were	blessed	with	worldly	goods,
	But	persisted	in	heinous	sin,
	And	were	wont	to	say,
	"	What!	after	we	have	died,	and	become	dust	and	bones,
	shall	we	be	raised	?
	And	our	fathers,	the	men	of	yore	?	"
	SAY	:	Aye,	the	former	and	the	latter	:
	50	Gathered	shall	they	all	be	for	the	time	of	a	known	day.
	Then	ye,	ye	the	erring,	the	gainsaying,
	Shall	surely	eat	of	the	tree	Ez-zakkoum,
	And	fill	your	bellies	with	it,
	And	thereupon	shall	ye	drink	boiling	water,
	And	ye	shall	drink	as	the	thirsty	camel	drinketh.
	This	shall	be	their	repast	in	the	day	of	reckoning	!
	We	created	you,	will	ye	not	credit	us	?	5
	What	think	ye	?	The	germs	of	life	6
	Is	it	ye	who	create	them	?	or	are	we	their	creator	?
	5o	It	is	we	who	have	decreed	that	death	should	be	among
	you;
	Yet	are	we	not	thereby	hindered	7	from	replacing	you	with
	others,	your	likes,	or	from	producing	you	again	in	a	form
	which	ye	know	not	!
	Ye	have	known	the	first	creation	:	will	ye	not	then	reflect	?
	What	think	ye	?	That	which	ye	sow
	1	Like	them,	grow	not	old.
	"This	seems	a	direct	contradiction	to	verse	14,	unless	we	suppose	with
	Jeidhawi	that	an	inferior	and	more	numerous	class	of	believers	are	here
	poken	of.
	3	Or,	scorching.	4	Lit.,	not	noble,	agreeable	in	appearance.
	6	As	to	the	resurrection.	6	Lit.,	semen	q:iod	emittitis.
	7	Lit.,	forestalled,	anticipated.


SELECTED	CATHOLIC	POEMS.	139
	Do	not	linger	with	regretting,
	Or	for	passing	hours	despond,
	Nor,	the	daily	toil	forgetting,
	Look	too	eagerly	beyond.
	Hours	are	golden	links,	God	s	token,
	Reaching	heaven	;	but	one	by	one
	Take	them,	lest	the	chain	be	broken
	Ere	the	pilgrimage	be	done.
	THE	ISLE	OF	SAINTS.
	By
	GERALD	GRIFFIN.
	Far,	far	amid	those	lonely	seas,
	Where	evening	leaves	her	latest	smile,
	Where	solemn	ocean	s	earliest	breeze
	Breathes,	peaceful,	o	er	our	holy	isle.
	Remote	from	that	distracted	world,
	Where	sin	has	reared	his	gloomy	throne,
	With	passion	s	ensign	sweetly	furl	d,
	We	live	and	breathe	for	heaven	alone.
	For	heaven	we	hope,	for	heaven	we	pray,
	For	heaven	we	look,	and	long	to	die	;
	For	heaven	for	heaven,	by	night,	by	day,
	Untiring	watch,	unceasing	sigh.
	Here,	fann	d	by	heavenly	temper	d	winds,
	Our	island	lifts	her	tranquil	breast;
	Oh,	come	to	her,	ye	wounded	minds
	Oh,	come	and	share	our	holy	rest	!


102	STORIES	IN	VERSE
	ANOTHER	CHANCE
	A	DRAMATIC	LYRIC
	COME,	give	me	back	my	life	again,	you	heavy-handed	Death	!
	Uncrook	your	fingers	from	my	throat,	and	let	me	draw	my
	breath.
	You	do	me	wrong	to	take	me	now	too	soon	for	me	to	die
	Ah,	loose	me	from	this	clutching	pain,	and	hear	the	reason	why.
	I	know	I	ve	had	rny	forty	years,	and	wasted	every	one;
	And	yet,	I	tell	you	honestly,	my	life	is	just	begun;
	I	ve	walked	the	world	like	one	asleep,	a	dreamer	in	a	trance;
	But	now	you	ve	gripped	me	wide	awake	I	want	another
	chance.
	My	dreams	were	always	beautiful,	my	thoughts	were	high	and
	fine;
	No	life	was	ever	lived	on	earth	to	match	those	dreams	of	mine.
	And	would	you	wreck	them	unfulfilled?	What	folly,	nay,
	what	crime!
	You	rob	the	world,	you	waste	a	soul	;	give	me	a	little	time.
	You	ll	hear	me?	Yes,	I	m	sure	you	will,	my	hope	is	not	in
	vain:
	I	feel	the	even	pulse	of	peace,	the	sweet	relief	from	pain;


NEW	YEAR	S	EVE	123
	Lest	all	my	happiness	should	disappear,
	I	thought	me	of	a	cunning	way
	To	hide	the	question	and	dissolve	the	doubt.
	"Will	you	not	give	me	now	your	hand,
	"Dear	Marguerite,"	I	asked,	"to	touch	and	hold,
	"That	by	this	token	I	may	understand
	"You	are	the	same	true	friend	you	were	of	old?"
	She	answered	with	a	smile	so	bright	and	calm
	It	seemed	as	if	I	saw	the	morn	arise
	In	the	deep	heaven	of	her	eyes;
	And	smiling	so,	she	laid	her	palm
	In	mine.	Dear	God,	it	was	not	cold
	But	warm	with	vital	heat!
	"You	live!"	I	cried,	"you	live,	dear	Marguerite!"
	Then	I	awoke;	but	strangely	comforted,
	Although	I	knew	again	that	she	was	dead.
	Ill
	Yes,	there	s	the	dream!	And	was	it	sweet	or	sad?
	Dear	mistress	of	my	waking	and	my	sleep,
	Present	reward	of	all	my	heart	s	desire,
	Watching	with	me	beside	the	winter	fire,
	Interpret	now	this	vision	that	I	had.
	But	while	you	read	the	meaning,	let	me	keep
	The	touch	of	you:	for	the	Old	Year	with	storm


UNDER	THE	SOD.	145
	All	I	can	say,	I	must	wish	him	well,
	If	he	s	taken	some	heavenly	stock,
	For	a	prospect	there	on	the	heavenly	shore
	Js	better	than	millions	of	gold	in	store.
	And	they	say	there	are	chances	for	millions	more,
	Who	can	find	(if	they	try)	the	bed	rock
	That	rock	of	ages,	which	yields	so	well,
	And	Christ	is	the	key	to	the	lock.
	UNDER	THE	SOD.
	TO	JOHN	P.
	Lines	on	ihe	Death	of	Edwin	L.	Jones.
	UNDER	the	sod	he	is	sleeping	to-day,
	Close	by	the	sea-girdled	shore	;
	Under	the	sod	and	the	dew	and	the	clay,
	We	can	look	on	his	face	nevermore.
	Jovial,	kind-hearted,	good-natured	and	free
	In	peace	let	him	sleep	neath	the	shade	of	the	tree
	In	the	land	that	he	loved.
	Under	the	sod	they	have	laid	him	to	rest,
	The	lover	of	right	and	the	hater	of	wrong	;
	As	honest	a	man	as	ever	God	blest,
	His	love	for	a	friend	everlasting	and	strong.
	And	if	for	the	wise	and	the	good	there	is	rest,
	Then	Edwin	is	surely	at	home	with	the	blest,
	For	the	heavenly	gates	were	ajar.
	Under	the	sod	near	the	murmuring	sea,
	So	far	from	the	home	of	his	childhood	;
	So	far	from	the	cabin	and	old	mountain	tree,
	Where	he	sported	with	Sam	in	the	wildwocd.
	His	trials	are	over,	his	good	deeds	are	done,
	His	battles	are	fought	and	the	victory	is	won,
	And	Edwin	has	gone	to	his	God.


ON	TRIAL.	283
	"	'Am	I	alone	the	solitary	center
	Of	all	the	seeming	universe	around,
	With	mocking	senses,	through	whose	portals	enter
	Unmeaning	phantasies	of	sight	and	sound?
	Are	ail	the	countless	minds	wherewith	I	people
	The	empty	forms	that	float	before	my	eyes
	Vain	as	the	cloud	that	girds	the	distant	steeple
	With	snowy	canopies?
	"	'Yet	though	the	world	be	but	myself	unfolded
	Soul	bent	again	on	soul	in	mystic	play
	No	less	each	sense	and	thought	and	act	is	moulded
	By	dead	necessities	I	may	not	sway.
	Some	mightier	power	against	my	will	can	move	me;
	Some	potent	nothing	force	and	overawe:
	Though	I	be	all	that	is,	I	feel	above	me
	The	godhead	of	blind	law!'
	"Seven	or	eight	pages	of	this	hysterical,	cartilaginous,
	invertebrate	nonsense	have	failed	to	convince	us	that	Mr.
	Massinger	is	really,	as	he	seems	implicitly	to	believe,	the
	hub	of	the	universe,	and	the	sole	intelligent	or	sentient
	being	within	the	entire	circle	of	organic	creation.	Many
	other	poets,	indeed,	have	thought	the	same,	but	few	have
	been	so	candid	as	to	express	their	opinion.	We	are
	tempted,	therefore,	to	conclude	our	notice	of	our	Bard's
	singular	views	as	to	Mr.	Massinger's	Place	in	Nature
	with	a	small	apologue,	in	his	own	best	manner,	which	we
	will	venture	to	entitle
	"	'MARINE	PHILOSOPHY	IN	SILLY	SUFFOLK.
	"	'A	jellyfish	swam	an	East	Anglian	sea,
	And	he	said,	"This	world,	it	consists	of	me.
	There's	nothing	above,	and	there's	nothing	below,
	That	a	jellyfish	ever	can	possibly	know
	Since	we've	got	no	sight	or	hearing	or	smell-
	Beyond	what	our	single	sense	can	tell.
	Now	all	we	can	learn	from	the	sense	of	touch
	Is	the	fact	of	our	feelings,	viewed	as	such;
	But	to	thinjk	they	have	any	external	cause
	Is	an	inference	clean	against	logical	laws.
	Again,	to	suppose,	as	I've	hitherto	done,
	There	are	other	jellyfish	under	the	sun
	Is	a	pure	assumption	that	can't	be	backed
	By	one	jot	of	proof	or	one	single	fact:


TORONTO	IN	1886.
	FAIR	TORONTO	!	Queen	City	of	the	West,
	Of	all	thy	sister	cities	thou	art	best	;
	As	far	as	eye	can	reach,	from	Don	to	Humber,
	Rise	towering	spires	in	goodly	number	;
	Cathedrals,	churches,	schools,	and	mansions	rise
	In	stately	grandeur	towering	to	the	skies.	.
	A	noble	harbor	fronts	thy	southern	bound,
	And	gentle	hills	encircle	thee	around	;
	From	north	to	south,	from	east	to	west	expand
	Streets,	avenues	and	roads,	so	wisely	plann'd,
	That	strangers	visit	thee	with	ease,	and	find
	In	thee	a	home	at	once	just	to	their	mind	;
	Long	live	Toronto	!	loud	her	praises	swell,
	Here	Commerce,	Art,	and	Nature	love	to	dwell.
	Imrie.
	It	will	be	no	exaggeration	to	say	that	no	city	on	the	con-
	tinent	is	making	greater	progress	than	the	City	of	Toronto.
	Within	ten	years	the	population	has	doubled.	Not	only	has	this
	increase	occurred	within	the	limits,	but	the	city	has	thrown	off
	shoots	east,	west	and	north,	which	are	now	rapidly	assuming	,
	the	proportions	of	towns.
	Indeed,	one	suburb,	which	a	decade	ago	was	a	series	of	farms,
	with	cottages	scattered	here	and	there,	has	been	recently	incor-
	porated,	and	its	large	population,	its	populous	streets,	its	hand-
	some	stores	and	private	residences	well	entitle	it	to	the	dignity
	of	a	town,	and	this	is	Parkdale.
	The	population	within	the	limits	now	reached	111,000.	Ten
	years	before	Toronto	extended	from	the	Don	to	Bathurst	Street,


[44]
	DRIFTWOOD
	HEAVEN	is	lovelier	than	the	stars,
	The	sea	is	fairer	than	the	shore;
	I	ve	seen	beyond	the	sunset	bars
	A	colour	more.
	A	thought	is	floating	round	my	mind,
	And	there	are	words	that	will	not	come.
	Do	you	believe,	as	I,	the	wind
	Somewhere	goes	home	?
	ii
	In	grassy	paths	my	spirit	walks.
	The	earth	I	travel	speaks	me	fair
	And	still	thro	many	voices	talks
	Of	that	deep	oneness	which	we	are.
	I	love	to	see	the	rolling	sod
	Mixing	and	changing	ever	grow
	To	other	forms,	and	this	is	God
	And	all	of	God	and	all	we	know.
	I	love	to	feel	the	dead	dust	whirled
	About	my	face,	to	touch	the	dust;
	And	this	large	muteness	of	the	world
	Gives	me	vitality	of	trust.


[259]
	We	could	our	face	but	hide,
	Our	arms	about	us	for	a	pall;
	"Heaven	has	shattered	us,"	we	cried	and	cried.
	Our	ear	dissolved;	our	voice	quavered;	and	we
	were	small.
	Yet	the	rich	passage	of	the	natural	days
	Dragging	their	carmine	webs	and	violet	hems
	Over	the	flowered	world;
	And	all	about	unfurled
	The	languid	nets	of	evening	dripping	gems
	Thro	the	low	rays;
	With	aftertrain	of	stars,
	Sober	divinities	and	simple	diadems!
	Where	on	your	cars
	You	move	in	circle	to	the	tracks	of	day!
	Ye	enfolded	us	and	we	did	lose
	The	little	habit	of	the	hour	and	way.
	We	have	seen
	Above	the	fluid	air,
	The	effaced	languor	of	ravine
	And	this	long	valley	peopled	as	a	lair
	With	smoky	forms
	The	morn	s	gray-lidded	star
	Alone;
	We	ve	felt	the	storm	s
	Approach,	the	rocks	with	echo	jar;
	We	Ve	heard	as	war
	Of	world	on	world	the	moving	glacier	moan:


xxin	THE	PROTECTORATE	615
	form,	was	an	act	of	arbitrary	power.	The	justification
	for	it	was	that	if	these	members	had	been	allowed	to	take
	their	seats	they	would	have	done	their	best	to	overturn
	the	government	;	that	if	they	had	overturned	the	govern-
	ment,	they	would	have	brought	in,	not	the	republic,	of
	which	Vane	dreamed,	nor	the	reign	of	the	saints,	of	which
	Harrison	dreamed,	nor	the	Covenanting	king	and	the
	Calvinistic	church,	of	which	the	Presbyterians	dreamed,
	but	the	Stuarts	;	and	that	if	they	had	brought	in	the
	Stuarts	they	would	have	annulled	the	revolution,	wrecked
	the	cause,	and,	if	they	were	regicides,	have	set	their	own
	heads,	as	some	of	them	ultimately	did,	on	Temple	Bar.
	After	the	exclusion,	the	parliament	still	numbered	some
	three	hundred	and	sixty	members,	friendly	in	the	main.
	A	decisive	moment	had	now	arrived.	A	long	train	of
	waggons	was	bearing	through	London	streets	the	golden
	spoils	and	trophies	of	Blake's	victories	over	Spain.	A
	poet	was	writing,
	"	Let	the	brave	generals	divide	the	bough,
	Our	great	Protector	hath	such	wreaths	enow;
	His	conquering	head	has	no	more	room	for	bays	;
	Then	let	it	be	as	the	glad	nation	prays,
	Let	the	rich	ore	forthwith	be	melted	down,
	And	the	State	fixed	by	making	him	a	crown	;
	With	ermine	clad	and	purple,	let	him	hold
	A	royal	sceptre	made	of	Spanish	gold."
	The	time	seemed	to	conservatives,	probably	to	Crom-
	well	himself,	to	have	come	for	completing	the	restoration
	of	the	old	political	constitution	by	reviving	the	hereditary
	monarchy	and	the	House	of	Lords.	The	Protector	was	1657
	invited	by	the	parliament	to	take	upon	him	the	govern-
	ment	by	the	title	of	king.


THE	THREE	FORTS.	37
	Nearer	ashore,	three	thousand	strong,
	While	prudent	Putnam,	thinking	wrong,
	To	Continental	Village	drew
	His	men	;	and	tidings	Westward	flew
	Across	the	river	to	the	forts,
	While	Clinton	brave	the	hope	supports
	That	Putnam	on	the	Eastern	shore
	Will	hear	and	send	relief	before
	The	dread	event	of	war	shall	come,
	And	blood	shall	drench	the	Highland	home.
	X
	Faithful	to	Charles,	the	Clinton	fled	"
	To	Ireland	green,	whose	grandson	sped
	Over	Atlantic	s	restless	waves
	In	chartered	ship,	and	Cape	Cod	saves
	His	friends	from	mutiny	and	death.
	In	Ulster	County	Discord	s	breath
	His	sons,	both	James	and	George,	aroused	"
	In	war	engaged,	by	safety	housed,
	Gainst	Frontenac	in	Canada.
	Their	father	dead,	these	twain	the	war
	For	freedom	animates	to	deed
	Of	statesmanship	and	valor	s	breed
	Of	suffering	and	steadfastness.
	James	with	Montgomery	distress
	Of	Northern	Wintry	loss	had	borne,


WEST	POINT.	8	1
	VII
	Hark	!	wailing,	burning,	slaughter,	cries	16
	From	western	Wyoming	arise.
	Thither	has	sped	the	caravan
	Of	war	with	sturdy	Sullivan,
	By	brave	James	Clinton	reinforced,
	Whose	Highland	forts	Bellona	coursed
	Erstwhile	with	drear	catastrophe.
	Elmira	s	vale	with	victory
	O	er	redmen	and	their	tory	friends
	Revenge	for	former	slaughter	sends
	Upon	the	crafty	sons	of	war.
	To	Genesee	the	patriots	mar
	The	country	of	the	enemy,
	And	then	return	their	homes	to	see.
	VIII
	Lo!	John	Paul	Jones	on	Albion	s	coast	"
	With	three	small	ships	in	battle	tossed
	Upon	the	deep,	till	Serapis
	Shall	yield,	and	convoyed	fleet	be	his!
	September	s	days	his	prowess	own,
	And	mighty	ocean	now	hath	known
	The	navy	of	Columbia,
	The	rise	of	freedom	s	morning	star
	Above	horizon	s	nothingness


126	WASHINGTON.
	Republican,	to	represent
	Advantages	of	monarchy,
	The	English	one	particularly,
	And	urge	with	gentle	hint	made	plain
	The	kingly	title	and	the	reign
	Majestic	for	the	chief	addressed.
	But	Washington	such	schemes	repressed
	With	patriotic	promptitude,
	Rebuking	all	such	hardihood,
	Injurious	to	the	struggling	state.
	Unlike	ambitious	Caesar,	great
	In	war,	who	thrice	refused	a	crown,
	A	single	nay	enough	renown
	Brought	him,	who	played	no	pompous	part,
	But	showed	mankind	an	honest	heart.
	VII
	The	camps	amid	the	Highland	hills
	Columbia	s	resting	army	fills,
	While	Frank	allies	the	Winter	pass
	Within	Virginia	s	lines,	alas!
	The	keeper,	too,	with	Maryland,
	Of	Britain	s	second	lost	command.
	Revolving	time	the	summer	brings,
	And	Northward	Gallia	s	army	wings
	Its	homeward	way	across	the	lea.
	Their	brave	allies	once	more	to	see


CHALLENGE.
	A	DIZZY	battalion	of	bronze	leaves
	Flickered	from	the	branches	that	brush	the	eaves	;
	While	the	black	wind	that	hurried	after
	Reeled	with	an	idiot	s	empty	laughter.
	.	.	.	And	I	who	stood	in	the	square	below
	Swayed	with	each	eddy	to	and	fro
	Like	a	quivering	mast	in	the	hurricane,
	Till	my	face	was	blue	with	cold	and	rain.
	At	last	I	coughed	and	rasped	my	throat
	To	shatter	forth	a	trumpet	note:
	"Come,	friends	of	mine,	the	bellowing	gale
	Has	ripped	the	clouds	as	it	tatters	a	sail.
	See	!	In	the	west	a	sword	of	blue
	Pierces	their	chilliness	through	and	through,
	And	the	sun	will	burst	in	a	yellow	haze
	To	dazzle	the	hillsides	and	amaze.
	Swift	!	Harness	your	mount	!	We	shall	ride,	ride,	ride
	Over	the	saffron	countryside.
	There	are	serpents	yet	to	be	taught	our	fear,
	And	each	of	us	couches	a	magic	spear.
	On	!	youth	is	ours	and	hearts	of	flame
	That	leap	at	the	sound	of	a	warrior	s	name	;
	So	let	us	leave	our	Camelot
	As	Gawaine	or	Sir	Launcelot,
	Or	Geraint	for	his	entrancing	Queen.
	Over	the	moor	and	behind	that	screen
	Of	enchanted	forest	we	shall	find
	Adventure	on	each	flaw	of	the	wind
	A	dragon	with	his	blackening	breath,
	A	giant	with	the	arm	of	death,
	A	dark	knight,	glowering	by	the	moat
	Of	the	keep	where	he	s	hidden,	lonely	there,
	A	damozel	with	amber	hair
	That	twists	like	a	vine	about	her	throat.
	Come	!	ride	on	the	gale	with	me,	my	friend	;
	We	shall	find	romance	at	our	gallop	s	end	!"
	".	.	.	Ah	yes,	I	ve	mounted	my	horse!"	he	cries,
	"But	the	dust	o	the	road	swirls	up	in	my	eyes	!"
	24


6	MEMOIRS	OF
	plundered	by	the	parliamentary	soldiers,	even	to	the
	clothes	of	the	infant	in	the	cradle,	(which,	according
	to	family	tradition,	was	Jonathan,	father	of	the	Dean,)
	and	to	the	last	loaf	which	was	to	support	his	nume
	rous	family,	Thomas	Swift	died	in	the	year	1658,	lea
	ving	ten	sons,	and	three	or	four	daughters,	with	no
	other	fortune	than	the	small	estate	to	which	he	was
	born,	and	that	almost	ruined	by	fines	and	sequestra-
	tions.
	The	sufferings	of	this	gentleman	were	of	some	ser-
	or	Gotheridge,	He	sent	a	pencilled	elevation	of	the	monument,	(a
	simple	tablet,)	to	Mrs	Howard,	who	returned	it	with	the	follow
	ing	lines,	inscribed	on	the	drawing	by	Pope.	The	paper	is	indor
	sed,	in	Swift's	hand,	"	Model	of	a	monument	for	my	grandfather,
	with	Mr	Pope's	roguery."
	JONATHAN	SWIFT
	Had	the	gift,
	By	fatherige,	motherige,
	And	by	brotherige,
	To	come	from	Gutherige,
	But	now	is	spoil'd	clean,
	And	an	Irish	Dean.
	In	this	church	he	has	put
	A	stone	of	two	foot	;
	With	a	cup	and	a	can,	Sir,
	In	respect	to	his	grandsire	;
	So,	Ireland,	change	thy	tone,
	And	cry,	O	hone	!	O	hone	!
	For	England	hath	its	own.
	The	lines,	originally	written	in	pencil	by	Pope,	are	traced	over
	in	ink	by	Dr	Lyons,	as	a	memorandum	bears.	It	occurred	amongst
	Dr	Lyon's	manuscripts.


TO	THE	READER.
	Not	only	Ear-gate,	but	the	very	town
	Would	by	those	battering-rams	be	beaten	down.
	I	saw	the	fights,	and	heard	the	captains	shout,
	And	in	each	battle	saw	who	faced	about;
	I	saw	who	wounded	were,	and	who	were	slain,
	And	who,	when	dead,	would	come	to	life	again.
	I	heard	the	cries	of	those	that	wounded	were,
	(While	others	fought	like	men	bereft	of	fear;)
	And	while	the	cry,	Kill	!	kill	!	was	in	mine	ears,
	The	gutters	ran,	not	so	with	blood	as	tears.
	Indeed	the	captains	did	not	always	fight,
	But	then	they	would	molest	us	day	and	night	:
	Their	cry,	Up,	fall	on,	let	us	take	the	town	!
	Kept	us	from	sleeping,	or	from	lying	down.
	I	was	there	when	the	gates	were	broken	ope,
	And	saw	how	Mansoul	then	was	stript	of	hope.
	I	saw	the	captains	march	into	the	town,
	How	there	they	fought,	and	did	their	foes	cut	down.
	I	heard	the	Prince	bid	Boanerges	go
	Up	to	the	castle,	and	there	seize	his	foe	;
	And	saw	him	and	his	fellows	bring	him	down
	In	chains	of	great	contempt	quite	through	the	town.
	I	saw	Emmanuel	when	he	possest
	His	town	of	Mansoul	;	and	how	greatly	blest
	The	town,	his	gallant	town	of	Mansoul	was,
	When	she	received	his	pardon,	loved	his	laws.
	When	the	Diabolonians	were	caught,
	When	tried,	and	when	to	execution	brought,
	Then	I	was	there	;	yea,	I	was	standing	by
	When	Mansoul	did	the	rebels	crucify.
	I	also	saw	Mansoul	clad	all	in	white,
	And	heard	her	Prince	call	her	his	heart	s	delight	;
	I	saw	him	put	upon	her	chains	of	gold,
	And	rings	and	bracelets,	goodly	to	behold.
	What	shall	I	say	?	I	heard	the	people	s	cries,
	And	saw	the	Prince	wipe	tears	from	Mansoul	s	eyes.
	I	heard	the	groans,	and	saw	the	joy	of	many	;
	Tell	you	of	all,	I	neither	will,	nor	can	I	;
	But	by	what	here	I	say,	you	well	may	see
	That	Mansoul	s	matchless	wars	no	fables	be.
	Mansoul,	the	desire	of	both	Princes	was,
	One	keep	his	gain	would,	t	other	gain	his	loss;
	Diabolus	would	cry,	The	town	is	mine	I
	Emmanuel	would	plead	a	right	divine
	Unto	his	Mansoul	;	then	to	blows	they	go,
	And	Mansoul	cries,	"	These	wars	will	me	undo	!"
	Mansoul,	her	wars	seemed	endless	in	her	eyes,
	She	s	lost	by	one,	becomes	another	s	prize	;
	And	he	again	that	lost	her	last	would	swear,
	Have	her	I	will,	or	her	in	pieces	tear.
	Mansoul,	it	was	the	very	seat	of	war	;
	Wherefore	her	troubles	greater	were	by	far
	Than	only	where	the	noise	of	war	is	heard,
	Or	where	the	shaking	of	a	sword	is	fear	d	1
	Or	only	where	small	skirmishes	are	fought,
	Or	where	the	fancy	fighteth	with	a	thought.
	She	saw	the	swords	of	fighting	men	made	red,
	And	heard	the	cries	of	those	with	them	wounded.
	Must	not	her	frights,	then,	be	much	more	by	far
	Than	theirs	that	to	such	doings	strangers	are	?
	Or	theirs	that	hear	the	beating	of	a	drum,
	But	not	made	fly	for	fear	from	house	and	home	?
	Mansoul	not	only	heard	the	trumpet	sound,
	But	saw	her	gallants	gasping	on	the	ground	;
	Wherefore	we	must	not	think	that	she	could	rest
	With	them	whose	greatest	earnest	is	but	jest	;
	Or	where	the	blust	ring	threatenings	of	great	wars
	Do	end	in	parleys,	or	in	wording	jars.
	Mansoul,	her	mighty	wars,	they	did	portend
	Her	weal,	or	woe,	and	that	world	without	end	;
	Wherefore	she	must	be	more	concern	d	than	they
	Whose	fears	begin	and	end	the	self-same	day;
	Or	where	none	other	harm	doth	come	to	him
	That	is	engaged,	but	loss	of	life	or	limb	;
	As	all	must	needs	confess	that	now	do	dwell
	In	Universe,	and	can	this	story	tell.
	Count	me	not,	then,	with	them	who	to	amaze
	The	people,	set	them	on	the	stars	to	gaze	;
	Insinuating	with	much	confidence
	That	each	of	them	is	now	the	residence
	Of	some	brave	creatures	;	yea,	a	world	they	will
	Have	in	each	star,	though	it	be	past	their	skill
	To	make	it	manifest	to	any	man
	That	reason	hath,	or	tell	his	fingers	can.
	But	I	have	too	long	held	thee	in	the	porch,
	And	kept	thee	from	the	sunshine	with	a	torch.
	Well,	now	go	forward,	step	within	the	door,
	And	there	behold	five	hundred	times	much	more
	Of	all	sorts	of	such	inward	rarities
	As	please	the	mind	will,	and	will	feed	the	eyes
	With	those	which	if	a	Christian	thou	wilt	see
	Not	small,	but	things	of	greatest	moment	be.
	Nor	do	thou	go	to	work	without	my	key,
	(In	mysteries	men	soon	do	lose	their	way,)
	And	also	turn	it	right	if	thou	wouldst	-know
	My	riddle,	and	wouldst	with	my	heifer	plough.
	It	lies	there	in	the	window.	Fare	thee	well,
	My	next	may	be	to	ring	thy	passing	bell.
	JOHN	BUN	VAN.


310	WHEN	ALL	THE	WOODS	ARE	GREEN
	"Of	course	these	words	were	meant	only	for	the
	children,"	said	Rose	;	"	I	like	this	better	:
	A	Smith	who	beat	the	gold	of	song
	To	voices	pleasant,	sweet	and	strong:
	What	royal	jewelries	he	wrought
	With	simple	words	and	kindly	thought!
	A	careless,	foolish,	wasteful	soul,
	Too	fond,	alas,	of	pipe	and	bowl	;
	Vain	of	his	looks,	his	waistcoat's	set,
	Oppressed	with	duns,	o'erwhelmed	with	debt,
	Crushed	with	distasteful	Grub	Street	work,
	The	friend	of	Reynolds	and	of	Burke,
	He	smiling	bore	the	gibes	of	Johnson,
	And	loitered	in	the	shop	of	Tonson;
	And	well	or	ill,	or	drunk	or	sober,
	In	youth	or	age's	drear	October	^
	Went	smiling,	jesting,	laughing	through,
	If	friends	were	false	or	friends	were	true.
	And	fared	he	well,	or	fared	he	ill,
	Left	but	kind	words	to	greet	us	still,
	And	modest	humor's	gentlest	play,
	That	bids	no	maiden	turn	away,
	And	many	a	cool,	clear,	ringing	line,
	Still	heard	through	all	those	noisy	years,
	And	wholesome	as	a	wayside	spring,
	And	sweet	with	smiles,	or	sad	with	tears."
	"	That	is	really	a	nice	bit	of	character-sketching,"
	said	Carington,	as	he	rose.	"	"We	must	try	the	post
	poned	plots	some	other	time."
	"	I	think	my	father	and	you	and	Mr.	Ellett	could
	manage	the	ghost	scene."
	"	Perhaps	we	may	have	a	chance	next	winter,"	he
	returned.	"	I	have	a	bridge	to	build	near	your	good
	city,	and	shall	certainly	see	you	all	as	I	go	and	come."


THE	CITY	II
	King.	On	Palm	Sunday	as	he	was	coming	to
	York,	he	met	at	Towton	the	forces	of	Henry	VI	and
	Margaret	of	Anjou,	and	defeated	them.	Next	day,
	Edward	IV	set	out	for	York	and,	nearing	the	city,
	he	was	confronted	with	the	ghastly	sight	of	his
	father's	head	on	Micklegate	Bar.
	"And,	after	many	scorns,	many	foul	taunts,
	They	took	his	head,	and	on	the	gates	of	York
	They	set	the	same;	and	where	it	doth	remain,
	The	saddest	spectacle	that	e'er	I	view'd."
	In	his	indignation,	the	King	ordered	the	Earls	of
	Devon	and	Wiltshire	and	three	other	prisoners	to
	immediate	execution,	in	order	that	their	heads	might
	replace	his	father's.
	"	From	off	the	gates	of	York	fetch	down	the	head,
	Your	father's	head,	which	Clifford	placed	there;
	Instead	thereof,	let	this	supply	the	room;
	Measure	for	measure	must	be	answered."
	During	the	great	Civil	War,	the	city	was	besieged
	by	the	Parliamentarian	forces,	and	after	a	blockade
	of	six	weeks	the	Royalists	attempted	two	sorties,
	both	of	which	were	failures.	The	besieged	waited
	patiently	for	relief	from	the	bold	but	erratic	Prince
	Rupert,	on	whose	approach	the	Parliamentarians	re-
	tired	towards	Marston	Moor.	The	Royalist	troops
	passed	through	Micklegate	Bar	to	meet	their	foes.
	In	the	ensuing	battle	the	Royal	forces	were	com-


65
	Boys	and	girls,	come	out	to	play,
	The	moon	does	shine	as	bright	as	day,
	Leave	your	supper,	and	leave	your	sleep,
	And	meet	your	playfellows	in	the	street	;
	Come	with	a	whoop,	and	come	with	a	call,
	And	come	with	a	good	will,	or	not	at	all.
	Up	the	ladder	and	down	the	wall,
	A	halfpenny	roll	will	serve	us	all.
	You	find	milk	and	I'll	find	flour,
	And	we'll	have	pudding	in	half	an	hour.


TECHNICAL	AND	INDUSTRIAL	ANALYSIS.	589
	his	engagement,	he	is	brought	into	personal	contact	with	those	in	authority,
	their	estimate	of	his	ability	and	value	in	his	position	will	often	be	formed
	more	in	proportion	to	his	familiarity	with	practical	affairs	than	from	his	strictly
	scientific	attainments	however	great.	And	this	is	also	true	of	others	with
	whom	he	may	have	business	relations.	Even	so	small	an	accomplishment	as
	the	ability	to	use	the	customary	trade-names	when	speaking	of	tools	and	the
	details	of	machinery	will	gain	for	him	a	certain	respect	among	workmen	that
	is	desirable	when	he	would	seek	their	advice	or	co-operation,	often	most
	valuable.
	Up	to	recent	years	a	student	had	necessarily	to	prepare	himself,	as	far	as
	possible,	for	every	line	of	chemical	work.	For	of	the	industries	of	this	coun-
	try	commonly	employing	chemists,	in	but	two	or	three	were	the	plants	so
	numerous	and	extensive	as	to	warrant	one	in	confining	his	studies	and	exer-
	cises	in	analysis	and	technology	to	the	class	of	work	there	pursued,	with
	a	reasonable	expectation	of	obtaining	employment	therein.	Moreover,	in	these
	industries	a	permanent	position	is	less	certain	than	in	others,	the	one	pecu-
	liarly	susceptible	to	the	fluctuations	of	the	market,	responding	to	the	earliest
	hint	of	a	general	business	depression	by	curtailing	or	ceasing	operations	for
	an	indefinite	period;	the	other	liable	at	any	time	to	face	the	exhaustion	of	its
	natural	supplies.	One	who	was	so	fortunate	as	to	know	In	advance	in	what
	particular	line	of	industry	he	would	be	employed	and	the	nature	of	the	ana-
	lytical	and	other	work	he	was	to	undertake,	had	of	course	no	difficulty	in
	arranging	the	latter	part	of	his	educational	course	along	the	same	lines.	But
	the	majority	of	students	had	no	such	assurance,	and	after	graduation	cast
	about	for	employment	and	accepted	what	offered.	With	this	prospect	in	view
	he	has	had	to	consider	what	studies	afforded	the	best	training	in	the	way	of
	enabling	him	to	enter	wherever	opportunity	offered	with	a	fair	promise	of	a
	successful	career.
	But	with	the	advent	of	a	more	rational	scientific	operation	of	manufacturing
	plants,	the	generally	admitted	value	of	chemical	analysis	to	the	buyer	of	mate-
	rials,	and	the	substantial	interest	manifested	in	the	application	of	chemistry
	to	the	arts,	the	field	open	to	the	chemist	has	widened	until	he	can	now	prepare
	for	a	single	department	with	reasonable	assurance	of	finding	employment
	therein.
	It	may	be	conceded	that	no	course	of	study	of	the	usual	collegiate	length	can
	possibly	constitute	an	adequate	preparation	for	the	immense	variety	of	analyt-
	ical	work	that	is	demanded	in	the	different	industries	the	graduate	may	enter.
	It	is	impossible	for	even	the	most	gifted	and	industrious	to	become	an	expert
	in	assaying	ores,	analyzing	iron	and	steel,	dyestuffs,	fertilizers,	drugs	and
	Pharmaceuticals,	dairy	products,	explosives,	oils,	and	the	long	list	of	other
	materials,	each	class	demanding	considerable	special	practice	ere	confidence	in
	the	analytical	results	is	obtained.	It	matters	little	how	expert	the	chemist	may
	be	in	one	line,	the	difficulties	he	encounters	in	essaying	another	can	only	be
	surmounted	by	special	study	and	practice	the	less,	of	course,	in	proportion
	as	the	general	principles	of	analysis	have	been	mastered	and	dexterity	in	manip-
	ulation	acquired.
	Formerly,	the	student	had	little	voice	in	the	selection	of	the	studies	that
	should	comprise	a	chemical	course;	a	single	rigid	routine	was	insisted	on,	re-
	gardless	of	the	purposes	and	prospects	of	the	student,	and	optional	branches
	were	few.	Latterly,	a	more	liberal	policy	obtains	in	the	more	progressive
	schools;	who,	while	insisting	on	the	pursuance	of	a	combination	of	studies	that
	is	designed	to	give	breadth	and	mental	culture,	yet	allow	more	or	less	change
	by	the	substitution	of	special	branches,	and	where	a	degree	in	course	is	not	to


FOUR	PLAYS,	OR	MORAL
	Rand.	Living,	Sir,	and	will	be	shortly	with	the	Senate:
	has
	Been	close	conceal'd	at	Mantua,	and	reliev'd	:
	But	what's	become	of	his	?	no	tidings	yet	?
	But	brother,	till	our	good	Duke	shall	arrive,
	Carry	this	news,	here.	Where's	your	Ferdinand	?
	Ben.	Oh	busie,	Sir,	about	this	marriage	:
	And	yet	my	Girl	o'th'	suddain	is	fall'n	sick	:
	You'll	see	her	e'r	you	go	?
	Rand.	Yes	;	well	I	love	her	;
	And	yet	I	wish	I	had	another	daughter
	To	gratifie	my	Gerrard,	who	(by	)
	Is	all	the	glory	of	my	family,
	But	has	too	much	worth	to	[l]ive	so	obscure	;
	I'll	have	him	Secretary	of	Estate
	Upon	the	Dukes	return	:	for	credit	me,
	The	value	of	that	Gentleman's	not	known	;
	His	strong	abilities	are	fit	to	guide
	The	whole	Republique	:	he	hath	Learning,	youth,
	Valour,	discretion,	honesty	of	a	Saint	;
	His	Aunt	is	wondrous	good	too.
	Enter	Violanta	in	a	bed	;	Angelina	and	Dorothea
	sitting	by	her.
	Ben.	You	have	spoke
	The	very	character	of	Ferdinand'.
	One	is	the	others	mirror.	How	now,	Daughter	?
	Rand.	How	fares	my	Neece	?
	Viol.	A	little	better,	Uncle,	then	I	was,
	I	thank	you.
	Rand.	Brother,	a	meer	cold.	(thanked
	Jngfl.	It	was	a	cold	and	heat,	I	think	:	but	Heaven	be
	We	have	broken	that	away.
	Ben.	And	yet,	fiolanta,
	You'll	lie	alone	still,	and	you	see	what's	got.
	Dor.	Sure,	Sir,	when	this	was	got,	she	had	a	bed-fellow.
	Rand.	What	has	her	chollick	left	her	in	her	belly	?
	Dor.	'T	has	left	her,	but	she	has	had	a	sore	fit.
	Rand.	I,	that	same	Collick	and	Stone's	inherent	to	us
	O'	th'	womans	side	:	our	Mothers	had	them	both.