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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of Song, Book II
+       For lower grammar grades
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Larkin Dunton
+
+Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38880]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF SONG, BOOK II ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  THE LAND OF SONG
+
+  BOOK II.
+
+  _FOR LOWER GRAMMAR GRADES_
+
+
+  SELECTED BY
+  KATHARINE H. SHUTE
+
+
+  EDITED BY
+  LARKIN DUNTON, LL.D.
+  HEAD MASTER OF THE BOSTON NORMAL SCHOOL
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
+  NEW YORK      BOSTON      CHICAGO
+  1899
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1899,
+  BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
+
+  BOSTON:
+  C. J. PETERS & SON, TYPOGRAPHERS.
+  Plimpton Press
+  H. M. PLIMPTON & CO., PRINTERS & BINDERS,
+  NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+_COMPILERS' PREFACE._
+
+
+The inestimable value of literature in supplying healthful recreation,
+in opening the mind to larger views of life, and in creating ideals that
+shall mold the spiritual nature, is conceded now by every one who has
+intelligently considered the problems of education. But the basis upon
+which literature shall be selected and arranged is still a matter of
+discussion.
+
+Chronology, race-correspondence, correlation, and ethical training
+should all be recognized incidentally; but the main purpose of the
+teacher of literature is to send children on into life with a genuine
+love for good reading. To accomplish this, three things should be true
+of the reading offered: first, it should be _literature_; second, it
+should be literature of some scope, not merely some small phase of
+literature, such as the fables or the poetry of one of the less eminent
+poets; and third, it should appeal to children's natural interests.
+Children's interests, varied as they seem, center in the marvelous and
+the preternatural; in the natural world; and in human life, especially
+child life and the romantic and heroic aspects of mature life. In the
+selections made for each grade, we have recognized these different
+interests.
+
+To grade poetry perfectly for different ages is an impossibility; much
+of the greatest verse is for all ages--that is one reason why it _is_
+great. A child of five will lisp the numbers of Horatius with delight;
+and Scott's _Lullaby of an Infant Chief_, with its romantic color and
+its exquisite human tenderness, is dear to childhood, to manhood, and to
+old age. But the Land of Song is a great undiscovered country to the
+little child; by some road or other he must find his way into it; and
+these volumes simply attempt to point out a path through which he may be
+led into its happy fields.
+
+Our earnest thanks are due to the following publishers for permission
+to use copyrighted poems: to Houghton, Mifflin & Co. for poems by
+Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, Aldrich, Bayard Taylor,
+James T. Fields, Phoebe Cary, Lucy Larcom, Celia Thaxter, and Sarah Orne
+Jewett; to D. Appleton & Co. for a large number of Bryant's poems; to
+Charles Scribner's Sons for two poems by Stevenson, from _Underwoods_,
+and _A Child's Garden of Verse_; to J. B. Lippincott & Co. for two poems
+by Thomas Buchanan Read; and to Henry T. Coates & Co. for a poem by
+Charles Fenno Hoffman.
+
+The present volume is intended for the fourth, fifth, and sixth school
+years, or lower grammar grades. It is the second of three books prepared
+for use in the grades below the high school. As no collection of this
+size can supply as much poetry as may be used to advantage, and as many
+desirable poems by American writers have necessarily been omitted, we
+have noted at the end of this volume lists of poems which it would be
+well to add to the material given here, that our children may realize
+the scope and beauty of the poetry of their own land.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                            PAGE
+  ALICE BRAND                                                 64
+  AT SEA                                                      60
+
+  BANKS O' DOON, THE                                         217
+  BATTLE OF BLENHEIM, THE                                    141
+  BATTLE OF THE BALTIC, THE                                  103
+  BELEAGUERED CITY, THE                                      133
+  BELSHAZZAR                                                 221
+  BOY AND THE ANGEL, THE                                     118
+  BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING              157
+  BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE                                    22
+  BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL                                 30
+
+  CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT                          93
+  CA' THE YOWES                                               81
+  CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE, THE                            89
+  CHILDREN IN THE WOOD, THE                                   71
+  CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN PEASANTS                           125
+  COMPANIONSHIP WITH NATURE                                  227
+  CONCORD HYMN                                               161
+  CORAL GROVE, THE                                            63
+  COUNCIL OF HORSES, THE                                     114
+  CORONACH                                                   200
+  CRICKET, THE                                               193
+
+  DAFFODILS                                                   15
+  DAFFODILS, THE                                              13
+  DEATH OF NELSON, THE                                       164
+  DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB                                  18
+  DEWDROP, THE                                               207
+
+  ELIXIR, THE                                                117
+  ENGLAND                                                    170
+  EPITAPH ON A HARE                                          112
+  EVENING (John Fletcher)                                    150
+  EVENING (John Keble)                                       206
+  EVENING WIND, THE                                          123
+  EXILE OF ERIN                                              215
+
+  FAREWELL, A                                                152
+  FIDELITY                                                   108
+  FINE DAY, A                                                 35
+  FISHERMAN, THE                                             211
+  FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT                                    69
+
+  GLADIATOR, THE                                             228
+  GOOD-NIGHT                                                 207
+  GRASSHOPPER, THE                                           192
+  GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD, THE                                 121
+  GREEN CORNFIELD, A                                          41
+
+  HALLOWED GROUND                                            145
+  HERITAGE, THE                                              208
+  HOHENLINDEN                                                 21
+  HOLY, HOLY, HOLY                                            19
+  HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD                          27
+  HONEY-BEE, THE                                              15
+  HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE                                        104
+  "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX"         229
+  HYMN OF THE NATIVITY                                       234
+  HURRICANE, THE                                             175
+
+  INCHCAPE ROCK, THE                                          43
+  INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP                                147
+  INGRATITUDE                                                 57
+
+  JOCK OF HAZELDEAN                                          213
+  JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN                                      204
+
+  KINGDOM OF GOD, THE                                        178
+  KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY                      126
+
+  LADY CLARE                                                 218
+  LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS                              28
+  LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING"                                      201
+  LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG                                      105
+  LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER                                      211
+  LOVE OF GOD, THE                                            31
+
+  MARCH                                                       42
+  MONTEREY                                                   162
+  MOONRISE, A SELECTION                                      201
+  MORNING                                                    149
+  MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD                             37
+
+  NEW YEAR, THE                                              237
+  NIGHT                                                      101
+  NOBLE NATURE, THE                                          179
+  NORTHERN SEAS, THE                                          61
+
+  ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND                                 167
+  OH! WEEP FOR THOSE                                          17
+  O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM                                   205
+  ON A FAVORITE CAT DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES           197
+  ON A SPANIEL CALLED "BEAU" KILLING A YOUNG BIRD             78
+  ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET (Leigh Hunt)                111
+  ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET (John Keats)                110
+  O WAD SOME POWER                                            37
+
+  PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU                                       24
+  PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN, THE                                  46
+  PILGRIM FATHERS, THE                                        84
+  PIPES AT LUCKNOW, THE                                      224
+  PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE                                  32
+
+  QUIET, LORD, MY FROWARD HEART                              149
+
+  REBECCA'S HYMN                                              20
+  REST                                                       191
+  REVENGE, THE                                               143
+  RHYMED LESSON, A                                            82
+  ROYAL GEORGE, THE                                           91
+  RUTH                                                       116
+
+  SAILOR'S WIFE, THE                                         135
+  SANDALPHON                                                 231
+  SELECTION FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, A               155
+  SELKIRK GRACE, THE                                          31
+  SHEPHERD'S HOME, THE                                        77
+  SHERIDAN'S RIDE                                            172
+  SKYLARK, THE                                                39
+  SOLDIER AND SAILOR                                         137
+  SOLDIER'S DREAM, THE                                        26
+  SOLITARY REAPER, THE                                       199
+  SONG FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE                             216
+  SONG OF MARION'S MEN                                        99
+  SONG OF THE GREEKS                                         170
+  SONG OF THE SEA, A                                          58
+  SONG: "ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE MADE TREES"                   151
+  SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL                                     125
+  SPRING                                                      38
+  STARS                                                      101
+  STORM, THE                                                 190
+  SUMMER SHOWER, THE                                          36
+  SWEET PEAS                                                  80
+
+  THY VOICE IS HEARD THROUGH ROLLING DRUMS                   148
+  TO A MOUSE                                                 153
+  TO A WATERFOWL                                             202
+  TO DAFFODILS                                                14
+  TO THE CUCKOO                                               40
+  TO THE SMALL CELANDINE                                     131
+
+  UNION AND LIBERTY                                           97
+  UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD                            16
+
+  VIRTUE                                                     208
+
+  WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD                             177
+  WHEN WILT THOU SAVE THE PEOPLE?                             94
+  WINSTANLEY                                                 180
+  WIVES OF BRIXHAM, THE                                       86
+  WREN'S NEST, A                                             194
+
+  YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND                                     163
+
+
+
+
+_Index of Authors._
+
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH.
+    When all thy Mercies, O my God                           177
+
+  ANONYMOUS.
+    O Mother Dear, Jerusalem                                 205
+    The Children in the Wood                                  71
+    The Wives of Brixham                                      86
+
+  ARNOLD.
+    The Death of Nelson                                      164
+
+  BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA.
+    Life's "Good-Morning"                                    201
+
+  BLAKE, WILLIAM.
+    Night                                                    101
+
+  BROWNING, ROBERT.
+    An Incident of the French Camp                           147
+    "How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix"       229
+    The Boy and the Angel                                    118
+    The Pied Piper of Hamelin                                 46
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.
+    March                                                     42
+    Song of Marion's Men                                      99
+    The Evening Wind                                         123
+    The Hurricane                                            175
+    The Love of God                                           31
+    The Planting of the Apple Tree                            32
+    To a Waterfowl                                           202
+    Upon the Mountain's Distant Head                          16
+
+  BURNS, ROBERT.
+    Ca' the Yowes                                             81
+    For A' That, and A' That                                  69
+    Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots                            28
+    O wad some Power                                          37
+    The Banks o' Doon                                        217
+    The Selkirk Grace                                         31
+    To a Mouse                                               153
+
+  BYRON, LORD (GEORGE NOEL GORDON).
+    A Selection from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage              155
+    Companionship with Nature, A Selection                   227
+    Moonrise, A Selection                                    201
+    Oh! weep for Those                                        17
+    The Destruction of Sennacherib                            18
+    The Gladiator, A Selection                               228
+
+  CAMPBELL, THOMAS.
+    Exile of Erin                                            215
+    Hallowed Ground                                          145
+    Hohenlinden                                               21
+    Lord Ullin's Daughter                                    211
+    Soldier and Sailor                                       137
+    Song of the Greeks                                       170
+    The Battle of the Baltic                                 103
+    The Soldier's Dream                                       26
+    Ye Mariners of England                                   163
+
+  COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR.
+    Choral Song of Illyrian Peasants                         125
+
+  COLLINS, WILLIAM.
+    How Sleep the Brave                                      104
+
+  CORNWALL, BARRY. (See PROCTER.)
+
+  COWLEY, ABRAHAM.
+    The Grasshopper                                          192
+
+  COWPER, WILLIAM.
+    Epitaph on a Hare                                        112
+    On a Spaniel called "Beau" killing a Young Bird           78
+    The Cricket                                              193
+    The Royal George                                          91
+
+  CUNNINGHAM, ALLAN.
+    At Sea                                                    60
+
+  DRAYTON, MICHAEL.
+    A Fine Day                                                35
+
+  ELLIOTT, EBENEZER.
+    When Wilt Thou save the People                            94
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO.
+    Concord Hymn                                             161
+
+  FLETCHER, JOHN.
+    Evening                                                  150
+
+  GAY, JOHN.
+    The Council of Horses                                    114
+
+  GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG.
+    Rest                                                     191
+
+  GRAY, THOMAS.
+    On a Favorite Cat, drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes        197
+
+  HEBER, REGINALD.
+    Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning            157
+    By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill                               30
+    Holy, Holy, Holy                                          19
+
+  HEMANS, FELICIA.
+    The Graves of a Household                                121
+    The Pilgrim Fathers                                       84
+
+  HERBERT, GEORGE.
+    The Elixir                                               117
+    Virtue                                                   208
+
+  HERRICK, ROBERT.
+    To Daffodils                                              14
+
+  HOFFMAN, CHARLES FENNO.
+    Monterey                                                 162
+
+  HOGG, JAMES.
+    The Skylark                                               39
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL.
+    A Rhymed Lesson, Selections                               82
+    Union and Liberty                                         97
+
+  HOOD, THOMAS.
+    Ruth                                                     116
+
+  HOWITT, MARY.
+    The Northern Seas                                         61
+
+  HUNT, LEIGH.
+    On the Grasshopper and Cricket                           111
+
+  INGELOW, JEAN.
+    Winstanley                                               180
+
+  JONSON, BEN.
+    The Noble Nature                                         179
+
+  KEATS, JOHN.
+    On the Grasshopper and Cricket                           110
+    Sweet Peas, A Selection                                   80
+
+  KEBLE, JOHN.
+    Evening                                                  206
+    Morning                                                  149
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES.
+    Ode to the North-East Wind                               167
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH.
+    Sandalphon                                               231
+    The Beleaguered City                                     133
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL.
+    The Heritage                                             208
+
+  MICKLE, WILLIAM J.
+    The Sailor's Wife                                        135
+
+  MILTON, JOHN.
+    Hymn of the Nativity, A Selection                        234
+
+  MOORE, THOMAS.
+    Sound the Loud Timbrel                                   125
+
+  NASH, THOMAS.
+    Spring                                                    38
+
+  NEWTON, JOHN.
+    Quiet, Lord, my Froward Heart                            149
+
+  PERCIVAL, JAMES G.
+    The Coral Grove                                           63
+
+  PERCY, THOMAS.
+    King John and the Abbot of Canterbury                    126
+
+  PROCTER, ADELAIDE.
+    The Storm                                                190
+
+  PROCTER, BRYAN WALLER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+    A Song of the Sea                                         58
+    Belshazzar                                               221
+    Stars                                                    101
+    The Fisherman                                            211
+
+  QUARLES, FRANCIS.
+    Good-Night                                               207
+
+  READ, THOMAS BUCHANAN.
+    Sheridan's Ride                                          172
+    The Summer Shower                                         36
+
+  ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G.
+    A Green Cornfield                                         41
+
+  ST. BERNARD.
+    Jerusalem, the Golden                                    204
+
+  SCOTT, SIR WALTER.
+    Alice Brand                                               64
+    Coronach                                                 200
+    Jock of Hazeldean                                        213
+    Pibroch of Donald Dhu                                     24
+    Rebecca's Hymn                                            20
+    Song From "The Lady of the Lake"                         216
+
+  SEARS, EDMUND H.
+    Calm on the Listening Ear of Night                        93
+
+  SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM.
+    Daffodils, A Selection                                    15
+    England, A Selection                                     170
+    Ingratitude, A Selection                                  57
+    Song: "Orpheus with his lute made trees"                 151
+    The Honey-bee, A Selection                                15
+
+  SHENSTONE, WILLIAM.
+    The Shepherd's Home                                       77
+
+  SOUTHEY, ROBERT.
+    Llewellyn and his Dog                                    105
+    The Battle of Blenheim                                   141
+    The Inchcape Rock                                         43
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED.
+    A Farewell                                               152
+    Home they brought her Warrior dead                        27
+    Lady Clare                                               218
+    The Charge of the Light Brigade                           89
+    The New Year                                             237
+    The Revenge, A Selection                                 143
+    Thy Voice is heard through Rolling Drums                 148
+
+  TRENCH, RICHARD C.
+    The Dewdrop                                              207
+    The Kingdom of God                                       178
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF.
+    The Pipes at Lucknow                                     224
+
+  WOLFE, CHARLES.
+    The Burial of Sir John Moore                              22
+
+  WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM.
+    A Wren's Nest                                            194
+    Fidelity                                                 108
+    My heart leaps up when I behold                           37
+    The Daffodils                                             13
+    The Solitary Reaper                                      199
+    To the Cuckoo                                             40
+    To the Small Celandine                                   131
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART I._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: AUTUMN.
+
+E. SEMENOWSKY.]
+
+
+
+
+_THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II._
+
+PART ONE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  I wandered lonely as a cloud
+  That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+  When all at once I saw a crowd,
+  A host, of golden daffodils;
+  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+  Continuous as the stars that shine
+  And twinkle on the milky way,
+  They stretched in never-ending line
+  Along the margin of a bay:
+  Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+  Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+  The waves beside them danced; but they
+  Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
+  A poet could not but be gay
+  In such a jocund company;
+  I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
+  What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+  For oft, when on my couch I lie
+  In vacant or in pensive mood,
+  They flash upon that inward eye
+  Which is the bliss of solitude;
+  And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+  And dances with the daffodils.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+TO DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
+      You haste away so soon;
+  As yet the early-rising Sun
+      Has not attained his noon;
+          Stay, stay,
+      Until the hasting day
+          Has run
+      But to the evensong;
+  And, having prayed together, we
+      Will go with you along.
+  We have short time to stay, as you;
+      We have as short a spring;
+  As quick a growth to meet decay
+      As you, or anything:
+          We die,
+      As your hours do, and dry
+          Away
+      Like to the summer's rain;
+  Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
+      Ne'er to be found again.
+
+                                                       ROBERT HERRICK.
+
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  Daffodils
+    That come before the swallow dares, and take
+  The winds of March with beauty.
+
+"_A Winter's Tale._"
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+THE HONEY-BEE.
+
+
+  For so work the honey-bees,
+  Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
+  The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
+  They have a king and officers of sorts;
+  Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
+  Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
+  Others, like soldiers, arm�d in their stings,
+  Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
+  Which pillage they with merry march bring home
+  To the tent-royal of their emperor;
+  Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
+  The singing masons building roofs of gold,
+  The civil citizens, kneading up the honey,
+  The poor mechanic porters crowding in
+  Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate.
+
+"_King Henry V._"
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD.
+
+
+  Upon the mountain's distant head,
+    With trackless snows forever white,
+  Where all is still, and cold, and dead,
+    Late shines the day's departing light.
+
+  But far below those icy rocks,
+    The vales in summer bloom arrayed,
+  Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks,
+    Are dim with mist and dark with shade.
+
+  'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,
+    And eyes whose generous meanings burn,
+  Earliest the light of life departs,
+    But lingers with the cold and stern.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: LORD BYRON.]
+
+OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
+
+
+  Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
+  Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
+  Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
+  Mourn--where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell!
+
+  And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
+  And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?
+  And Judah's melody once more rejoice
+  The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?
+
+  Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
+  How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
+  The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
+  Mankind their country--Israel but the grave.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
+
+
+  The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
+  And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
+  And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
+  When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
+
+  Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
+  That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
+  Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
+  That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
+
+  For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
+  And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
+  And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
+  And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!
+
+  And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
+  But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
+  And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
+  And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
+
+  And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
+  With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
+  And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
+  The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
+
+  And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
+  And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
+  And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
+  Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+HOLY, HOLY, HOLY.
+
+
+  Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
+    Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
+  Holy, holy, holy! merciful and mighty!
+    All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea.
+
+  Holy, holy, holy! all the saints adore Thee,
+    Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
+  Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee,
+    Which wert and art and evermore shalt be!
+
+  Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide Thee,
+    Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see,
+  Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee,
+    Perfect in power, in love, and purity!
+
+                                        _Altered from_ REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+REBECCA'S HYMN.
+
+
+  When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
+    Out of the land of bondage came,
+  Her father's God before her moved,
+    An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
+  By day, along the astonished lands
+    The cloudy pillar glided slow;
+  By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
+    Returned the fiery column's glow.
+
+  There rose the choral hymn of praise,
+    And trump and timbrel answered keen,
+  And Zion's daughters poured their lays,
+    With priest's and warrior's voice between.
+  No portents now our foes amaze,
+    Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
+  Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
+    And Thou hast left them to their own.
+
+  But, present still, though now unseen,
+    When brightly shines the prosperous day,
+  Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen
+    To temper the deceitful ray.
+  And oh, when stoops on Judah's path
+    In shade and storm the frequent night,
+  Be Thou long-suffering, slow to wrath,
+    A burning and a shining light!
+
+  Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
+    The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
+  No censer round our altar beams,
+    And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
+  But Thou hast said, the blood of goat,
+    The flesh of rams I will not prize;
+  A contrite heart, an humble thought,
+    Are mine accepted sacrifice.
+
+_From "Ivanhoe."_
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+HOHENLINDEN.
+
+
+  On Linden, when the sun was low,
+  All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
+  And dark as winter was the flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+  But Linden saw another sight,
+  When the drum beat, at dead of night,
+  Commanding fires of death to light
+      The darkness of her scenery.
+
+  By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
+  Each horseman drew his battle blade,
+  And furious every charger neighed
+      To join the dreadful revelry.
+
+  Then shook the hills, with thunder riven
+  Then rushed the steed, to battle driven;
+  And louder than the bolts of Heaven,
+      Far flashed the red artillery.
+
+  But redder yet that light shall glow
+  On Linden's hills of stain�d snow;
+  And bloodier yet the torrent flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+  'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
+  Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun,
+  Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
+      Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
+
+  The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
+  Who rush to glory, or the grave!
+  Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
+      And charge with all thy chivalry!
+
+  Few, few shall part, where many meet!
+  The snow shall be their winding sheet;
+  And every turf beneath their feet
+      Shall be a soldier's sepulcher.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
+
+
+  Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
+    As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
+  Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
+    O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
+
+  We buried him darkly at dead of night,
+    The sods with our bayonets turning;
+  By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
+    And the lantern dimly burning.
+
+  No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
+    Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
+  But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
+    With his martial cloak around him.
+
+  Few and short were the prayers we said,
+    And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
+  But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
+    And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
+
+  We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
+    And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
+  That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
+    And we far away on the billow!
+
+  Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
+    And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
+  But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
+    In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
+
+  But half of our heavy task was done
+    When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
+  And we heard the distant and random gun
+    That the foe was sullenly firing.
+
+  Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
+    From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
+  We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone--
+    But we left him alone with his glory!
+
+                                                        CHARLES WOLFE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT.]
+
+PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.
+
+
+  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
+    Pibroch of Donuil,
+  Wake thy wild voice anew,
+    Summon Clan Conuil.
+  Come away, come away,
+    Hark to the summons!
+  Come in your war array,
+    Gentles and commons.
+
+  Come from deep glen, and
+    From mountains so rocky;
+  The war pipe and pennon
+    Are at Inverlocky.
+  Come every hill plaid, and
+    True heart that wears one,
+  Come every steel blade, and
+    Strong hand that bears one.
+
+  Leave untended the herd,
+    The flock without shelter;
+  Leave the corpse uninterred,
+    The bride at the altar;
+  Leave the deer, leave the steer,
+    Leave nets and barges;
+  Come with your fighting gear,
+    Broadswords and targes.
+
+  Come as the winds come, when
+    Forests are rended;
+  Come as the waves come, when
+    Navies are stranded;
+  Faster come, faster come,
+    Faster and faster,
+  Chief, vassal, page, and groom,
+    Tenant and master.
+
+  Fast they come, fast they come;
+    See how they gather!
+  Wide waves the eagle plume
+    Blended with heather.
+  Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
+    Forward each man set!
+  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
+    Knell for the onset!
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.
+
+
+  Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered,
+    And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
+  And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
+    The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
+
+  When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
+    By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
+  At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw;
+    And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
+
+  Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array
+    Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate track;
+  'Twas autumn,--and sunshine arose on the way
+    To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
+
+  I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
+    In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
+  I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,
+    And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung.
+
+  Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore
+    From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
+  My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
+    And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart.
+
+  "Stay, stay with us!--rest! thou art weary and worn!"
+    And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;--
+  But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
+    And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD.
+
+
+  Home they brought her warrior dead:
+    She nor swooned, nor uttered cry;
+  All her maidens, watching, said,
+    "She must weep or she will die."
+
+  Then they praised him, soft and low,
+    Called him worthy to be loved,
+  Truest friend and noblest foe;
+    Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
+
+  Stole a maiden from her place,
+    Lightly to the warrior stept,
+  Took the face cloth from the face;
+    Yet she neither moved nor wept.
+
+  Rose a nurse of ninety years,
+    Set his child upon her knee--
+  Like summer tempest came her tears--
+    "Sweet my child, I live for thee."
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
+
+ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
+
+
+  Now Nature hangs her mantle green
+    On every blooming tree,
+  And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
+    Out o'er the grassy lea:
+  Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
+    And glads the azure skies;
+  But nought can glad the weary wight
+    That fast in durance lies.
+
+  Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,
+    Aloft on dewy wing;
+  The merl�, in his noon-tide bower,
+    Makes woodland echoes ring;
+  The mavis wild wi' mony a note
+    Sings drowsy day to rest:
+  In love and freedom they rejoice,
+    Wi' care nor thrall opprest.
+
+  Now blooms the lily by the bank,
+    The primrose down the brae;
+  The hawthorne's budding in the glen,
+    And milk-white is the slae;
+  The meanest hind in fair Scotland
+    May rove their sweets amang;
+  But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
+    Maun lie in prison strang!
+
+  I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
+    Where happy I hae been;
+  Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
+    As blythe lay down at e'en:
+  And I'm the sov'reign o' Scotland,
+    And mony a traitor there;
+  Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
+    And never-ending care.
+
+  My son! my son! may kinder stars
+    Upon thy fortune shine;
+  And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
+    That ne'er wad blink on mine!
+  God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
+    Or turn their hearts to thee:
+  And, where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
+    Remember him for me!
+
+  Oh! soon, to me, may summer suns
+    Nae mair light up the morn!
+  Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
+    Wave o'er the yellow corn!
+  And in the narrow house o' death
+    Let winter round me rave;
+  And the next flow'rs that deck the spring
+    Bloom on my peaceful grave!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL.
+
+
+  By cool Siloam's shady rill
+    How sweet the lily grows!
+  How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+    Of Sharon's dewy rose!
+
+  Lo, such the child whose early feet
+    The paths of peace have trod;
+  Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
+    Is upward drawn to God.
+
+  By cool Siloam's shady rill
+    The lily must decay;
+  The rose that blooms beneath the hill
+    Must shortly fade away.
+
+                                                       REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+THE SELKIRK GRACE.
+
+
+  Some hae meat and canna eat,
+    And some wad eat that want it;
+  But we hae meat and we can eat,
+    And sae the Lord be thankit.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVE OF GOD.
+
+
+  All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,
+  Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
+  The forms of men shall be as they had never been;
+  The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green;
+  The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song,
+  And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long.
+  The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,
+  And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.
+  The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox,
+  The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,
+  And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie;
+  And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale, shall die.
+  And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be no more,
+  And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore;
+  And the great globe itself, so the holy writings tell,
+  With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell,
+  Shall melt with fervent heat--they shall all pass away,
+  Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+_From the Proven�al of Bernard Rascas._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE.
+
+
+    Come, let us plant the apple tree.
+  Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
+  Wide let its hollow bed be made;
+  There gently lay the roots, and there
+  Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
+    And press it o'er them tenderly,
+  As, round the sleeping infant's feet
+  We softly fold the cradle sheet;
+    So plant we the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Buds, which the breath of summer days
+  Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
+  Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
+  Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest;
+    We plant, upon the sunny lea,
+  A shadow for the noontide hour,
+  A shelter from the summer shower,
+    When we plant the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
+  To load the May wind's restless wings,
+  When, from the orchard row, he pours
+  Its fragrance through our open doors;
+    A world of blossoms for the bee,
+  Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
+  For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,
+    We plant with the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
+  And redden in the August noon,
+  And drop, when gentle airs come by,
+  That fan the blue September sky,
+    While children come, with cries of glee,
+  And seek them where the fragrant grass
+  Betrays their bed to those who pass,
+    At the foot of the apple tree.
+
+    And when, above this apple tree,
+  The winter stars are quivering bright,
+  And winds go howling through the night,
+  Girls, whose young eyes overflow with mirth,
+  Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,
+    And guests in prouder homes shall see,
+  Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine
+  And golden orange of the line,
+    The fruit of the apple tree.
+
+    The fruitage of this apple tree
+  Winds, and our flag of stripe and star,
+  Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
+  Where men shall wonder at the view,
+  And ask in what fair groves they grew;
+    And sojourners beyond the sea
+  Shall think of childhood's careless day
+  And long, long hours of summer play,
+    In the shade of the apple tree.
+
+    Each year shall give this apple tree
+  A broader flush of roseate bloom,
+  A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,
+  And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,
+  The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.
+    The years shall come and pass, but we
+  Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
+  The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,
+    In the boughs of the apple tree.
+
+    And time shall waste this apple tree.
+  Oh, when its aged branches throw
+  Thin shadows on the ground below,
+  Shall fraud and force and iron will
+  Oppress the weak and helpless still?
+    What shall the tasks of mercy be,
+  Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears,
+  Of those who live when length of years
+    Is wasting this apple tree?
+
+    "Who planted this old apple tree?"
+  The children of that distant day
+  Thus to some aged man shall say;
+  And, gazing on its mossy stem,
+  The gray-haired man shall answer them:
+    "A poet of the land was he,
+  Born in the rude but good old times;
+  'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes
+    On planting the apple tree."
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+A FINE DAY.
+
+
+  Clear had the day been from the dawn,
+    All chequer'd was the sky,
+  Thin clouds like scarfs of cobweb lawn
+    Veiled heaven's most glorious eye.
+  The wind had no more strength than this,
+    That leisurely it blew,
+  To make one leaf the next to kiss,
+    That closely by it grew.
+
+                                                      MICHAEL DRAYTON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SUMMER SHOWER.
+
+
+    Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain,
+    As when the strong storm wind is reaping the plain;
+    And loiters the boy in the briery lane;
+    But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain,
+  Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall.
+
+    Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet,
+    It dashes the dust with its numberless feet.
+    Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat,
+    The wild birds sit listening, the drops round them beat;
+  And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall.
+
+    The swallows alone take the storm on their wing,
+    And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing;
+    Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring,
+    While a bubble darts up from each widening ring;
+  And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.
+
+    But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves;
+    The robin darts out from his bower of leaves;
+    The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves;
+    And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives
+  That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all.
+
+                                                 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+
+
+MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD.
+
+
+  My heart leaps up when I behold
+      A rainbow in the sky:
+  So was it when my life began;
+  So is it now I am a man;
+  So be it when I shall grow old,
+      Or let me die!
+  The Child is father of the Man;
+  And I could wish my days to be
+  Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+O WAD SOME POWER.
+
+
+  O Wad some Power the giftie gie us
+  To see oursel's as others see us!
+  It wad frae mony a blunder free us
+              An' foolish notion;
+  What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
+              And ev'n devotion!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+SPRING.
+
+
+  Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
+  Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring;
+  Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
+
+  The palm and may make country houses gay,
+  Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day;
+  And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
+
+  The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
+  Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit;
+  In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
+        Spring! the sweet spring!
+
+                                                          THOMAS NASH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SKYLARK.
+
+
+    Bird of the wilderness,
+    Blithesome and cumberless,
+  Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
+    Emblem of happiness,
+    Blest is thy dwelling-place--
+  Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!
+
+    Wild is thy lay and loud,
+    Far in the downy cloud,
+  Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
+    Where, on thy dewy wing,
+    Where art thou journeying?
+  Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
+
+    O'er fell and fountain sheen,
+    O'er moor and mountain green,
+  O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
+    Over the cloudlet dim,
+    Over the rainbow's rim,
+  Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
+
+    Then, when the gloaming comes,
+    Low in the heather blooms
+  Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
+    Emblem of happiness,
+    Best is thy dwelling-place--
+  Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!
+
+                                                           JAMES HOGG.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE CUCKOO.
+
+
+  O Blithe newcomer! I have heard,
+    I hear thee and rejoice.
+  O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
+    Or but a wandering voice?
+
+  While I am lying on the grass
+    Thy twofold shout I hear,
+  From hill to hill it seems to pass,
+    At once far off and near!
+
+  Though babbling only to the vale,
+    Of sunshine and of flowers,
+  Thou bringest unto me a tale
+    Of visionary hours.
+
+  Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!
+    Even yet thou art to me
+  No bird, but an invisible thing,
+    A voice, a mystery;
+
+  The same whom in my schoolboy days
+    I listened to; that cry
+  Which made me look a thousand ways
+    In bush, and tree, and sky.
+
+  To seek thee did I often rove
+    Through woods and on the green;
+  And thou wert still a hope, a love;
+    Still longed for, never seen.
+
+  And I can listen to thee yet;
+    Can lie upon the plain
+  And listen, till I do beget
+    That golden time again.
+
+  O bless�d bird! the earth we pace
+    Again appears to be
+  An unsubstantial, fairy place:
+    That is fit home for thee!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+A GREEN CORNFIELD.
+
+"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."
+
+
+  The earth was green, the sky was blue:
+    I saw and heard one sunny morn
+  A skylark hang between the two,
+    A singing speck above the corn;
+
+  A stage below, in gay accord,
+    White butterflies danced on the wing,
+  And still the singing skylark soared
+    And silent sank, and soared to sing.
+
+  The cornfield stretched a tender green
+    To right and left beside my walks;
+  I knew he had a nest unseen
+    Somewhere among the million stalks:
+
+  And as I paused to hear his song
+    While swift the sunny moments slid,
+  Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
+    And listened longer than I did.
+
+                                                CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+MARCH.
+
+
+  The stormy March is come at last
+    With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;
+  I hear the rushing of the blast,
+    That through the snowy valley flies.
+
+  Ah, passing few are those who speak,
+    Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee;
+  Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
+    Thou art a welcome month to me.
+
+  For thou, to northern lands, again
+    The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
+  And thou hast joined the gentle train
+    And wear'st the gentle name of spring.
+
+  And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
+    Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
+  When the changed winds are soft and warm,
+    And Heaven puts on the blue of May.
+
+  Then sing aloud the gushing rills
+    In joy that they again are free,
+  And, brightly leaping down the hills,
+    Begin their journey to the sea.
+
+  The year's departing beauty hides
+    Of wintry storms the sullen threat;
+  But in thy sternest frown abides
+    A look of kindly promise yet.
+
+  Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,
+    And that soft time of sunny showers,
+  When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,
+    Seems of a brighter world than ours.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+THE INCHCAPE ROCK.
+
+
+  No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
+  The ship was still as she could be;
+  Her sails from heaven received no motion,
+  Her keel was steady in the ocean.
+
+  Without either sign or sound of their shock
+  The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
+  So little they rose, so little they fell,
+  They did not move the Inchcape bell.
+
+  The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok
+  Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
+  On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
+  And over the waves its warning rung.
+
+  When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell,
+  The mariners heard the warning bell;
+  And then they knew the perilous Rock,
+  And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
+
+  The sun in heaven was shining gay,
+  All things were joyful on that day;
+  The seabirds screamed as they wheeled around,
+  And there was joyance in their sound.
+
+  The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen
+  A darker speck on the ocean green;
+  Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
+  And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
+
+  He felt the cheering power of spring,
+  It made him whistle, it made him sing;
+  His heart was mirthful to excess,
+  But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
+
+  His eye was on the Inchcape float;
+  Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
+  And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
+  And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok."
+
+  The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
+  And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
+  Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
+  And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
+
+  Down sunk the bell, with a gurgling sound,
+  The bubbles rose and burst around;
+  Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock
+  Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."
+
+  Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;
+  He scoured the seas for many a day;
+  And now grown rich with plunder's store,
+  He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
+
+  So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
+  They cannot see the sun on high;
+  The wind hath blown a gale all day,
+  At evening it hath died away.
+
+  On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
+  So dark it is they see no land.
+  Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
+  For there is the dawn of the rising moon."
+
+  "Can'st hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
+  For methinks we should be near the shore;
+  Now where we are I cannot tell,
+  But I wish I could hear the Inchcape bell."
+
+  They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
+  Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
+  Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;
+  Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock!"
+
+  Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
+  And curst himself in his despair;
+  The waves rush in on every side,
+  The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
+
+  But even in his dying fear
+  One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
+  A sound as if with the Inchcape bell
+  The fiends below were ringing his knell.
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
+
+
+  Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,
+    By famous Hanover city;
+    The river Weser deep and wide
+    Washes its walls on the southern side;
+    A pleasanter spot you never spied;
+  But, when begins my ditty,
+    Almost five hundred years ago,
+  To see the townsfolk suffer so
+    From vermin, was a pity.
+
+    Rats!
+  They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
+    And bit the babies in their cradles,
+  And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
+    And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles,
+  Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
+  Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
+  And even spoiled the women's chats,
+    By drowning their speaking
+    With shrieking and squeaking
+  In fifty different sharps and flats.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT BROWNING.]
+
+  At last the people in a body
+    To the town hall came flocking:
+  "'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy:
+    And as for our Corporation--shocking
+  To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
+    For dolts that can't or won't determine
+    What's best to rid us of our vermin!
+    You hope, because you're old and obese,
+    To find in the furry civic robe ease!
+  Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking
+  To find the remedy we're lacking,
+  Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!
+  At this the Mayor and Corporation
+  Quaked with a mighty consternation.
+
+  An hour they sat in council;
+    At length the Mayor broke silence:
+  "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;
+    I wish I were a mile hence!
+  It's easy to bid one rack one's brain--
+  I'm sure my poor head aches again,
+  I've scratched it so, and all in vain.
+  Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!"
+  Just as he said this, what should hap
+  At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
+  "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?
+  Anything like the sound of a rat
+  Makes my heart go pitapat!
+
+  "Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger;
+  And in did come the strangest figure!
+  His queer long coat from heel to head
+  Was half of yellow and half of red;
+  And he himself was tall and thin,
+  With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
+  And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
+  No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin,
+  But lips where smiles went out and in--
+  There was no guessing his kith and kin!
+  And nobody could enough admire
+  The tall man and his quaint attire:
+  Quoth one, "It's as my great-grandsire,
+  Starting up at the trump of Doom's tone,
+  Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"
+
+  He advanced to the council table:
+  And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able,
+  By means of a secret charm, to draw
+  All creatures living beneath the sun,
+  That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,
+  After me so as you never saw!
+  And I chiefly use my charm
+  On creatures that do people harm,
+  The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper;
+  And people call me the Pied Piper."
+  And here they noticed round his neck
+    A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
+  To match with his coat of the selfsame check;
+    And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;
+  And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying,
+  As if impatient to be playing
+  Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
+  Over his vesture so old fangled.
+  "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am,
+  In Tartary I freed the Cham,
+  Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
+  I eased in Asia the Nizam
+  Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats:
+  And as for what your brain bewilders,
+  If I can rid your town of rats
+    Will you give me a thousand guilders?"
+    "One? fifty thousand!" was the exclamation
+  Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
+
+  Into the street the Piper stept,
+    Smiling first a little smile,
+  As if he knew what magic slept
+    In his quiet pipe the while;
+  Then like a musical adept,
+  To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
+  And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
+  Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled;
+  And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered,
+  You heard as if an army muttered;
+  And the muttering grew into a grumbling;
+  And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
+  And out of the houses the rats came tumbling--
+  Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
+  Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
+  Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
+    Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
+  Curling tails, and pricking whiskers,
+    Families by tens and dozens,
+  Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives,--
+  Followed the Piper for their lives.
+  From street to street he piped, advancing,
+  And step for step they followed, dancing,
+  Until they came to the river Weser
+  Wherein all plunged and perished,
+  Save one, who stout as Julius C�sar,
+  Swam across, and lived to carry
+  (As he the manuscript he cherished)
+  To Rat-land home his commentary,
+  Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe,
+  I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
+  And putting apples wondrous ripe
+  Into a cider press's gripe;
+  And a moving away of pickle-tub boards,
+  And a leaving ajar of conserve cupboards,
+  And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks,
+  And a breaking the hoops of butter casks;
+  And it seemed as if a voice
+  (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
+  Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice!
+  The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!
+  So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
+  Breakfast, dinner, supper, luncheon!
+  And just as a bulky sugar puncheon,
+  All ready staved, like a great sun shone
+  Glorious, scarce an inch before me,
+  Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!'
+  --I found the Weser rolling o'er me."
+
+  You should have heard the Hamelin people
+  Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;
+  "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles!
+  Poke out the nests, and block up the holes!
+  Consult with carpenters and builders,
+  And leave in town not even a trace
+  Of the rats!" When suddenly up the face
+  Of the Piper perked in the market place,
+  With a "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"
+
+  A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
+  So did the Corporation too.
+  For council dinners made rare havoc
+  With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
+  And half the money would replenish
+  Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
+  To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
+  With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
+  "Besides," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,
+  "Our business was done at the river's brink;
+  We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
+  And what's dead can't come to life, I think.
+  So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink
+  From the duty of giving you something for drink,
+  And a matter of money to put in your poke;
+  But, as for the guilders, what we spoke
+  Of them, as you very well know, was in joke--
+  Beside, our losses have made us thrifty:
+  A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"
+
+  The Piper's face fell, and he cried,
+  "No trifling! I can't wait; beside
+  I've promised to visit by dinner time
+  Bagdat, and accept the prime
+  Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in,
+  For having left in the Caliph's kitchen,
+  Of a nest of scorpions no survivor.
+  With him I proved no bargain-driver;
+  With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!
+  And folks who put me in a passion
+  May find me pipe to another fashion."
+  "How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook
+  Being worse treated than a cook?
+  Insulted by a lazy ribald
+  With idle pipe and vesture piebald?
+  You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
+  Blow your pipe there till you burst!"
+
+  Once more he stept into the street,
+    And to his lips again
+  Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane;
+    And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
+  Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
+    Never gave the enraptured air),
+  There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling,
+  Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
+  Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
+  Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
+  And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,
+  Out came the children running:
+  All the little boys and girls,
+  With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
+  And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
+  Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
+  The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
+
+  The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
+  As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
+  Unable to move a step, or cry
+  To the children merrily skipping by,--
+  And could only follow with the eye
+  That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
+  And now the Mayor was on the rack,
+  And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
+  As the Piper turned from the High Street
+  To where the Weser rolled its waters
+  Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
+  However, he turned from south to west,
+  And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
+  And after him the children pressed;
+  Great was the joy in every breast.
+  "He never can cross that mighty top!
+  He's forced to let the piping drop,
+  And we shall see our children stop!"
+  When, lo! as they reached the mountain's side,
+  A wondrous portal opened wide,
+  As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
+  And the Piper advanced, and the children followed;
+  And when all were in to the very last,
+  The door in the mountain side shut fast.
+  Did I say, all? No! one was lame,
+  And could not dance the whole of the way;
+  And in after years, if you would blame
+  His sadness, he was used to say,--
+  "It's dull in our town since my playmates left!
+  I can't forget that I'm bereft
+  Of all the pleasant sights they see,
+  Which the Piper also promised me:
+  For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
+  Joining the town and just at hand,
+  Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,
+  And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
+  And everything was strange and new;
+  The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
+  And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
+  And honeybees had lost their stings,
+  And horses were born with eagles' wings;
+  And just as I became assured
+  My lame foot would be speedily cured,
+  The music stopped and I stood still,
+  And found myself outside the hill,
+  Left alone against my will,
+  To go now limping as before,
+  And never hear of that country more!"
+
+[Illustration: THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
+
+H. KAULBACH.]
+
+  The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south,
+  To offer the Piper by word of mouth,
+    Wherever it was man's lot to find him,
+  Silver and gold to his heart's content,
+  If he'd only return the way he went,
+    And bring the children behind him.
+  But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,
+  And Piper and dancers were gone forever,
+  They made a decree that lawyers never
+    Should think their records dated duly,
+  If after the day of the month and year
+  These words did not as well appear,
+    "And so long after what happened here
+    On the twenty-second of July,
+  Thirteen hundred and seventy-six."
+  And the better in memory to fix
+  The place of the children's last retreat,
+  They called it the Pied Piper's Street--
+  Where any one playing on pipe or tabor,
+  Was sure for the future to lose his labor.
+  Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
+    To shock with mirth a street so solemn;
+  But opposite the place of the cavern
+    They wrote the story on a column,
+  And on the great church window painted
+  The same, to make the world acquainted
+  How their children were stolen away;
+  And there it stands to this very day.
+
+  And I must not omit to say
+  That in Transylvania there's a tribe
+  Of alien people, that ascribe
+  The outlandish ways and dress
+  On which their neighbors lay such stress,
+  To their fathers and mothers having risen
+  Out of some subterraneous prison,
+  Into which they were trepanned
+  Long ago in a mighty band,
+  Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land;
+  But how or why, they don't understand.
+
+  So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
+  Of scores out with all men,--especially pipers;
+  And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
+  If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+INGRATITUDE.
+
+
+  Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
+  Thou art not so unkind
+    As man's ingratitude;
+  Thy tooth is not so keen,
+  Because thou art not seen,
+    Although thy breath be rude.
+
+  Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
+  Thou dost not bite so nigh
+    As benefits forgot:
+  Though thou the waters warp,
+  Thy sting is not so sharp
+    As friend remembered not.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+_From "As You Like It."_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A SONG OF THE SEA.
+
+
+  The sea! the sea! the open sea!
+  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+  Without a mark, without a bound,
+  It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+  It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,
+  Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+  I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea!
+  I am where I would ever be;
+  With the blue above, and the blue below,
+  And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+  If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+  What matter? I shall ride and sleep.
+
+  I love (O! how I love) to ride
+  On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
+  When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+  Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+  And tells how goeth the world below,
+  And why the southwest blasts do blow.
+
+  I never was on the dull, tame shore,
+  But I loved the great sea more and more,
+  And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+  Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+  And a mother she was and is to me;
+  For I was born on the open sea!
+
+  The waves were white, and red the morn,
+  In the noisy hour when I was born;
+  And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
+  And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+  And never was heard such an outcry wild
+  As welcomed to life the ocean child!
+
+  I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+  Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+  With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
+  But never have sought, nor sighed for change;
+  And Death, whenever he come to me,
+  Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea!
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+
+
+
+AT SEA.
+
+
+  A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+    A wind that follows fast
+  And fills the white and rustling sail
+    And bends the gallant mast;
+  And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+    While like the eagle free
+  Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+    Old England on the lee.
+
+  "Oh for a soft and gentle wind!"
+    I heard a fair one cry;
+  But give to me the snoring breeze
+    And white waves heaving high;
+  And white waves heaving high, my lads,
+    The good ship tight and free:--
+  The world of waters is our home,
+    And merry men are we.
+
+  There's tempest in yon horn�d moon,
+    And lightning in yon cloud;
+  But hark the music, mariners!
+    The wind is piping loud;
+  The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+    The lightning flashes free:--
+  While the hollow oak our palace is,
+    Our heritage the sea.
+
+                                                     ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE NORTHERN SEAS.
+
+
+  Up! up! let us a voyage take;
+    Why sit we here at ease?
+  Find us a vessel tight and snug,
+    Bound for the northern seas.
+
+  I long to see the northern lights
+    With their rushing splendors fly,
+  Like living things with flaming wings,
+    Wide o'er the wondrous sky.
+
+  I long to see those icebergs vast,
+    With heads all crowned with snow,
+  Whose green roots sleep in the awful deep,
+    Two hundred fathoms low.
+
+  I long to hear the thundering crash
+    Of their terrific fall,
+  And the echoes from a thousand cliffs
+    Like lonely voices call.
+
+  There shall we see the fierce white bear,
+    The sleepy seals aground,
+  And the spouting whales that to and fro
+    Sail with a dreary sound.
+
+  There may we tread on depths of ice,
+    That the hairy mammoth hide;
+  Perfect as when, in times of old,
+    The mighty creature died.
+
+  And while the unsetting sun shines on
+    Through the still heaven's deep blue,
+  We'll traverse the azure waves, the herds
+    Of the dread sea horse to view.
+
+  We'll pass the shores of solemn pine,
+    Where wolves and black bears prowl;
+  And away to the rocky isles of mist,
+    To rouse the northern fowl.
+
+  Up there shall start ten thousand wings
+    With a rustling, whistling din;
+  Up shall the auk and fulmar start,
+    All but the fat penguin.
+
+  And there in the wastes of the silent sky,
+    With the silent earth below,
+  We shall see far off to his lonely rock
+    The lonely eagle go.
+
+  Then softly, softly will we tread
+    By inland streams, to see
+  Where the pelican of the silent North
+    Sits there all silently.
+
+                                                          MARY HOWITT.
+
+
+
+
+THE CORAL GROVE.
+
+
+  Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
+  Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;
+  Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue,
+  That never are wet with the falling dew;
+  But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
+  Far down in the green and glassy brine.
+  The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift,
+  And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow;
+  From coral rocks the sea plants lift
+  Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow.
+  The water is calm and still below,
+  For the winds and waves are absent there,
+  And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
+  In the motionless fields of upper air.
+  There, with its waving blade of green,
+  The sea flag streams through the silent water,
+  And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen
+  To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter;
+  There, with a light and easy motion,
+  The fan coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea;
+  And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean
+  Are bending like corn on the upland lea:
+  And life in rare and beautiful forms
+  Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
+  And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms
+  Has made the top of the waves his own:
+  And when the ship from his fury flies,
+  When the myriad voices of ocean roar,
+  When the wind god frowns in the murky skies,
+  And demons are waiting the wreck on shore,
+  Then, far below, in the peaceful sea,
+  The purple mullet and goldfish rove,
+  Where the waters murmur tranquilly
+  Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.
+
+                                                 JAMES GATES PERCIVAL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ALICE BRAND.
+
+
+  Merry it is in the good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,
+  When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
+    And the hunter's horn is ringing.
+
+  "O Alice Brand, my native land
+    Is lost for love of you;
+  And we must hold by wood and wold,
+    As outlaws wont to do!
+
+  "O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
+    And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
+  That on the night of our luckless flight,
+    Thy brother bold I slew.
+
+  "Now I must teach to hew the beech
+    The hand that held the glaive,
+  For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
+    And stakes to fence our cave.
+
+  "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,
+    That wont on harp to stray,
+  A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
+    To keep the cold away."
+
+  "O Richard! if my brother died,
+    'Twas but a fatal chance:
+  For darkling was the battle tried,
+    And fortune sped the lance.
+
+  "If pall and vair no more I wear,
+    Nor thou the crimson sheen,
+  As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray;
+    As gay the forest green.
+
+  "And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
+    And lost thy native land,
+  Still Alice has her own Rich�rd,
+    And he his Alice Brand."
+
+
+II.
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
+  On the beech's pride and oak's brown side,
+    Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
+
+  Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
+    Who wonn'd within the hill,--
+  Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
+    His voice was ghostly shrill.
+
+  "Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak,
+    Our moonlight circle's screen?
+  Or who comes here to chase the deer,
+    Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
+  Or who may dare on wold to wear
+    The fairies' fatal green?
+
+  "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
+    For thou wert christened man:
+  For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
+    For muttered word or ban.
+
+  "Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
+    The curse of the sleepless eye;
+  Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
+    Nor yet find leave to die!"
+
+
+III.
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    Though the birds have stilled their singing;
+  The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
+    And Richard is fagots bringing.
+
+  Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
+    Before Lord Richard stands,
+  And as he crossed and blessed himself,
+  "I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,
+    "That is made with bloody hands."
+
+  But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
+    That woman void of fear,--
+  "And if there's blood upon his hand,
+    'Tis but the blood of deer."
+
+  "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
+    It cleaves unto his hand,
+  The stain of thine own kindly blood,
+    The blood of Ethert Brand."
+
+  Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
+    And made the holy sign,--
+  "And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
+    A spotless hand is mine.
+
+  "And I conjure thee, Demon elf,
+    By Him whom Demons fear,
+  To show us whence thou art thyself,
+    And what thine errand here?"
+
+
+IV.
+
+  "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland,
+    When fairy birds are singing,
+  When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
+    With bit and bridle ringing:
+
+  "And gayly shines the Fairyland--
+    But all is glistening show,
+  Like the idle gleam that December's beam
+    Can dart on ice and snow.
+
+  "And fading, like that varied gleam,
+    Is our inconstant shape,
+  Who now like knight and lady seem,
+    And now like dwarf and ape.
+
+  "It was between the night and day,
+    When the Fairy King has power,
+  That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
+  And 'twixt life and death, was snatched away,
+    To the joyless Elfin bower.
+
+  "But wist I of a woman bold,
+    Who thrice my brow durst sign,
+  I might regain my mortal mold,
+    As fair a form as thine."
+
+  She crossed him once--she crossed him twice--
+    That lady was so brave;
+  The fouler grew his goblin hue,
+    The darker grew the cave.
+
+  She crossed him thrice, that lady bold!
+    He rose beneath her hand
+  The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
+    Her brother, Ethert Brand!
+
+  Merry it is in good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing;
+  But merrier were they in Dumfermline gray
+    When all the bells were ringing.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
+
+
+  Is there, for honest poverty,
+    That hangs his head, and a' that?
+  The coward slave, we pass him by,
+    We dare be poor for a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+  The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
+    The man's the gowd for a' that!
+
+  What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
+    Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+  Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+    A man's a man, for a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+  The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+    Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+  Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
+    Wha struts, and stares, and a' that:
+  Though hundreds worship at his word,
+    He's but a coof for a' that:
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    His riband, star, and a' that;
+  The man of independent mind,
+    He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT BURNS.]
+
+  A king can make a belted knight,
+    A marquis, duke, and a' that;
+  But an honest man's aboon his might!
+    Guid faith, he mauna fa' that;
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Their dignities, and a' that;
+  The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+    Are higher ranks than a' that.
+
+  Then let us pray that come it may--
+    As come it will, for a' that--
+  That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+    May bear the gree, and a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    It's comin' yet for a' that;
+  That man to man, the warld o'er,
+    Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.
+
+
+  Now ponder well, you parents dear,
+    These words which I shall write;
+  A doleful story you shall hear,
+    In time brought forth to light.
+  A gentleman of good account
+    In Norfolk dwelt of late,
+  Who did in honor far surmount
+    Most men of his estate.
+
+  Sore sick he was, and like to die,
+    No help his life could save;
+  His wife by him as sick did lie,
+    And both possessed one grave.
+  No love between these two was lost,
+    Each was to other kind;
+  In love they lived, in love they died,
+    And left two babes behind.
+
+  The one, a fine and pretty boy,
+    Not passing three years old;
+  The other, a girl more young than he,
+    And framed in beauty's mold.
+  The father left his little son,
+    As plainly doth appear,
+  When he to perfect age should come,
+    Three hundred pounds a year.
+
+  And to his little daughter Jane,
+    Five hundred pounds in gold,
+  To be paid down on her marriage day,
+    Which might not be controlled:
+  But if the children chanced to die
+    Ere they to age should come,
+  Their uncle should possess their wealth;
+    For so the will did run.
+
+  "Now, brother," said the dying man,
+    "Look to my children dear;
+  Be good unto my boy and girl,
+    No friends else have they here:
+  To God and you I recommend
+    My children dear this day;
+  But little while be sure we have
+    Within this world to stay.
+
+  "You must be father and mother both,
+    And uncle all in one;
+  God knows what will become of them
+    When I am dead and gone."
+  With that bespake their mother dear,
+    "O brother kind," quoth she,
+  "You are the man must bring our babes
+    To wealth or misery.
+
+  "And if you keep them carefully,
+    Then God will you reward;
+  But if you otherwise should deal,
+    God will your deeds regard."
+  With lips as cold as any stone,
+    They kissed their children small:
+  "God bless you both, my children dear;"
+     With that their tears did fall.
+
+  These speeches then their brother spake
+    To this sick couple there:
+  "The keeping of your little ones,
+    Sweet sister, do not fear.
+  God never prosper me or mine,
+    Nor aught else that I have,
+  If I do wrong your children dear
+    When you are laid in grave."
+
+  The parents being dead and gone,
+    The children home he takes,
+  And brings them straight unto his house,
+    Where much of them he makes.
+  He had not kept these pretty babes
+    A twelvemonth and a day,
+  But, for their wealth, he did devise
+    To make them both away.
+
+  He bargained with two ruffians strong
+    Which were of furious mood,
+  That they should take these children young
+    And slay them in a wood.
+  He told his wife an artful tale:
+    He would the children send
+  To be brought up in fair London,
+    With one that was his friend.
+
+  Away then went those pretty babes,
+    Rejoicing at that tide,
+  Rejoicing with a merry mind,
+    They should on cockhorse ride.
+  They prate and prattle pleasantly,
+    As they rode on the way,
+  To those that should their butchers be
+    And work their lives' decay.
+
+  So that the pretty speech they had,
+    Made murder's heart relent;
+  And they that undertook the deed
+    Full sore did now repent.
+  Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
+    Did vow to do his charge,
+  Because the wretch that hired him
+    Had paid him very large.
+
+  The other won't agree thereto,
+    So here they fall to strife;
+  With one another they did fight
+    About the children's life:
+  And he that was of mildest mood,
+    Did slay the other there,
+  Within an unfrequented wood:
+    The babes did quake for fear!
+
+  He took the children by the hand,
+    Tears standing in their eye,
+  And bade them straightway follow him,
+    And look they did not cry;
+  And two long miles he led them on,
+    While they for food complain:
+  "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread,
+    When I come back again."
+
+  These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
+    Went wandering up and down;
+  But never more could see the man
+    Approaching from the town:
+  Their pretty lips with blackberries
+    Were all besmeared and dyed,
+  And when they saw the darksome night,
+    They sat them down and cried.
+
+  Thus wandered these poor innocents
+    Till death did end their grief,
+  In one another's arms they died,
+    As wanting due relief.
+  No burial this pretty pair
+    Of any man received,
+  Till Robin Redbreast piously
+    Did cover them with leaves.
+
+  And now the heavy wrath of God
+    Upon their uncle fell;
+  Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
+    His conscience felt an hell:
+  His barns were fired, his goods consumed,
+    His lands were barren made,
+  His cattle died within the field,
+    And nothing with him stayed.
+
+  And in the voyage to Portugal
+    Two of his sons did die;
+  And to conclude, himself was brought
+    To want and misery.
+  He pawned and mortgaged all his land
+    Ere seven years came about.
+  And now at length this wicked act
+    Did by this means come out:
+
+  The fellow that did take in hand
+    These children for to kill,
+  Was for a robbery judged to die,
+    Such was God's bless�d will.
+  Who did confess the very truth,
+    As here hath been displayed:
+  Their uncle having died in gaol,
+    Where he for debt was laid.
+
+  You that executors be made,
+    And overseers eke
+  Of children that be fatherless,
+    And infants mild and meek;
+  Take you example by this thing,
+    And yield to each his right,
+  Lest God with such like misery
+    Your wicked minds requite.
+
+                                                         _Old Ballad._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S HOME.
+
+
+  My banks they are furnished with bees,
+    Whose murmur invites one to sleep;
+  My grottoes are shaded with trees,
+    And my hills are white over with sheep.
+  I seldom have met with a loss,
+    Such health do my fountains bestow;
+  My fountains all bordered with moss,
+    Where the harebells and violets blow.
+
+  Not a pine in the grove is there seen,
+    But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;
+  Not a beech's more beautiful green,
+    But a sweetbrier entwines it around.
+  Not my fields in the prime of the year,
+    More charms than my cattle unfold;
+  Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
+    But it glitters with fishes of gold.
+
+  I have found out a gift for my fair,
+    I have found where the wood pigeons breed,
+  But let me such plunder forbear,
+    She will say 'twas a barbarous deed;
+  For he ne'er could be true, she averred,
+    Who would rob a poor bird of its young;
+  And I loved her the more when I heard
+    Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
+
+                                                    WILLIAM SHENSTONE.
+
+
+
+
+ON A SPANIEL CALLED "BEAU" KILLING A YOUNG BIRD.
+
+
+  A spaniel, Beau, that fares like you,
+    Well fed, and at his ease,--
+  Should wiser be than to pursue
+    Each trifle that he sees.
+
+  But you have killed a tiny bird,
+    Which flew not till to-day,
+  Against my orders, whom you heard
+    Forbidding you the prey.
+
+  Nor did you kill that you might eat,
+    And ease a doggish pain;
+  For him, though chased with furious heat,
+    You left where he was slain.
+
+  Nor was he of the thievish sort,
+    Or one whom blood allures;
+  But innocent was all his sport
+    Whom you have torn for yours.
+
+  My dog! what remedy remains,
+    Since, teach you all I can,
+  I see you, after all my pains,
+    So much resemble man?
+
+
+BEAU'S REPLY.
+
+  Sir, when I flew to seize the bird
+    In spite of your command,
+  A louder voice than yours I heard,
+    And harder to withstand.
+
+  You cried--"Forbear!" but in my breast
+    A mightier cried--"Proceed!"--
+  'Twas Nature, sir, whose strong behest
+    Impelled me to the deed.
+
+  Yet much as Nature I respect,
+    I ventured once to break
+  (As you perhaps may recollect)
+    Her precept for your sake;
+
+  And when your linnet on a day,
+    Passing his prison door,
+  Had fluttered all his strength away,
+    And panting pressed the floor:
+
+  Well knowing him a sacred thing,
+    Not destined to my tooth,
+  I only kissed his ruffled wing,
+    And licked the feathers smooth.
+
+  Let my obedience then excuse
+    My disobedience now,
+  Nor some reproof yourself refuse
+    From your aggrieved Bow-wow;
+
+  If killing birds be such a crime,
+    (Which I can hardly see),
+  What think you, sir, of killing Time
+    With verse addressed to me!
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+SWEET PEAS.
+
+A SELECTION.
+
+
+  Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:
+  With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,
+  And taper fingers catching at all things,
+  To bind them all about with tiny rings.
+  Linger awhile upon some bending planks
+  That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,
+  And watch intently Nature's gentle doings:
+  They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.
+  How silent comes the water round that bend!
+  Not the minutest whisper does it send
+  To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass
+  Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+
+
+CA' THE YOWES.
+
+
+  Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+  Ca' them where the heather grows,
+  Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Hark the mavis' evening sang
+  Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
+  Then a faulding let us gang,
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  We'll gae down by Cluden side,
+  Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
+  O'er the waves that sweetly glide
+      To the moon sae clearly.
+
+  Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
+  Where at moonshine midnight hours,
+  O'er the dewy bending flowers,
+      Fairies dance so cheery.
+
+  Ghaist nor bogie shalt thou fear;
+  Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
+  Nocht of ill may come thee near,
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Fair and lovely as thou art,
+  Thou hast stown my very heart;
+  I can die--but canna part--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+  Ca' them where the heather grows;
+  Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+SELECTIONS FROM A RHYMED LESSON.
+
+
+    Shalt thou be honest? Ask the worldly schools,
+  And all will tell thee knaves are busier fools;
+  Prudent? Industrious? Let not modern pens
+  Instruct "Poor Richard's" fellow citizens.
+
+    Be firm! one constant element in luck
+  Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck;
+  See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake's thrill,
+  Clung to its base, and greets the sunrise still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Yet in opinions look not always back;
+  Your wake is nothing, mind the coming track;
+  Leave what you've done for what you have to do;
+  Don't be "consistent," but be simply true.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Once more; speak clearly, if you speak at all;
+  Carve every word before you let it fall;
+  Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star,
+  Try over hard to roll the British R;
+  Do put your accents in the proper spot;
+  Don't,--let me beg you,--don't say "How?" for "What?"
+  And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,
+  Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful _urs_.
+
+                                                OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
+
+[Illustration: OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
+
+
+  The breaking waves dashed high
+    On a stern and rock-bound coast,
+  And the woods against a stormy sky
+    Their giant branches tossed;
+
+  And the heavy night hung dark
+    The hills and waters o'er,
+  When a band of exiles moored their bark
+    On the wild New England shore.
+
+  Not as the conqueror comes,
+    They, the true-hearted, came;
+  Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
+    And the trumpet that sings of fame;
+
+  Not as the flying come,
+    In silence and in fear;--
+  They shook the depths of the desert gloom
+    With their hymns of lofty cheer.
+
+  Amidst the storm they sang,
+    And the stars heard, and the sea;
+  And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
+    To the anthem of the free!
+
+  The ocean eagle soared
+    From his nest by the white wave's foam;
+  And the rocking pines of the forest roared--
+    This was their welcome home!
+
+  There were men with hoary hair
+    Amidst that pilgrim band;
+  Why had they come to wither there
+    Away from their childhood's land?
+
+  There was woman's fearless eye,
+    Lit by her deep love's truth;
+  There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
+    And the fiery heart of youth.
+
+  What sought they thus afar?
+    Bright jewels of the mine?
+  The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
+    They sought a faith's pure shrine!
+
+  Ay, call it holy ground,
+    The soil where first they trod.
+  They have left unstained what there they found--
+    Freedom to worship God.
+
+                                                       FELICIA HEMANS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM.
+
+A TRUE STORY.
+
+
+  The merry boats of Brixham
+    Go out to search the seas;
+  A stanch and sturdy fleet are they,
+    Who love a swinging breeze;
+  And before the woods of Devon,
+    And the silver cliffs of Wales,
+  You may see, when summer evenings fall,
+    The light upon their sails.
+
+  But when the year grows darker,
+    And gray winds hunt the foam,
+  They go back to Little Brixham,
+    And ply their toil at home.
+  And thus it chanced one winter's night,
+    When a storm began to roar,
+  That all the men were out at sea,
+    And all the wives on shore.
+
+  Then as the wind grew fiercer,
+    The women's cheeks grew white,--
+  It was fiercer in the twilight,
+    And fiercest in the night.
+  The strong clouds set themselves like ice,
+    Without a star to melt;
+  The blackness of the darkness
+    Was darkness to be felt.
+
+  The old men they were anxious,
+    They dreaded what they knew;
+  What do you think the women did?
+    Love taught them what to do!
+  Out spake a wife, "We've beds at home,
+    We'll burn them for a light,--
+  Give us the men and the bare ground,
+    We want no more to-night."
+
+  They took the grandame's blanket,
+    Who shivered and bade them go;
+  They took the baby's pillow,
+    Who could not say them no;
+  And they heaped a great fire on the pier,
+    And knew not all the while
+  If they were heaping a bonfire,
+    Or only a funeral pile.
+
+  And fed with precious food, the flame
+    Shone bravely on the black,
+  Till a cry rang through the people,
+    "A boat is coming back!"
+  Staggering dimly through the fog
+    Come shapes of fear and doubt,
+  But when the first prow strikes the pier,
+    Cannot you hear them shout?
+
+  Then all along the breath of flame,
+    Dark figures shrieked and ran,
+  With "Child, here comes your father!"
+    Or, "Wife, is this your man?"
+  And faint feet touch the welcome shore,
+    And wait a little while;
+  And kisses drop from frozen lips,
+    Too tired to speak or smile.
+
+  So, one by one, they struggled in
+    All that the sea would spare;
+  We will not reckon through our tears
+    The names that were not there;
+  But some went home without a bed,
+    When all the tale was told,
+  Who were too cold with sorrow
+    To know the night was cold.
+
+  And this is what the men must do
+    Who work in wind and foam;
+  And this is what the women bear
+    Who watch for them at home.
+  So when you see a Brixham boat
+    Go out to face the gales,
+  Think of the love that travels
+    Like light upon her sails.
+
+                                                           _Selected._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ALFRED TENNYSON.]
+
+THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
+
+
+  Half a league, half a league,
+  Half a league onward,
+  All in the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+  "Forward the Light Brigade!
+  Charge for the guns!" he said:
+  Into the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  "Forward the Light Brigade!"
+  Was there a man dismayed?
+  Not tho' the soldier knew
+    Some one had blundered:
+  Theirs not to make reply,
+  Theirs not to reason why,
+  Theirs but to do and die:
+  Into the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  Cannon to right of them,
+  Cannon to left of them,
+  Cannon in front of them
+    Volleyed and thundered;
+  Stormed at with shot and shell,
+  Boldly they rode and well,
+  Into the jaws of Death,
+  Into the mouth of Hell
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  Flashed all their sabers bare,
+  Flashed as they turned in air
+  Sab'ring the gunners there,
+  Charging an army, while
+    All the world wondered:
+  Plunged in the battery smoke,
+  Right thro' the line they broke;
+  Cossack and Russian
+  Reeled from the saber stroke
+    Shattered and sundered.
+  Then they rode back, but not
+    Not the six hundred.
+
+  Cannon to right of them,
+  Cannon to left of them,
+  Cannon behind them
+    Volleyed and thundered;
+  Stormed at with shot and shell,
+  While horse and hero fell,
+  They that had fought so well
+  Came thro' the jaws of Death,
+    Back from the mouth of Hell,
+  All that was left of them,
+    Left of six hundred.
+
+  When can their glory fade?
+  O the wild charge they made!
+    All the world wondered.
+  Honor the charge they made!
+  Honor the Light Brigade,
+    Noble six hundred!
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE ROYAL GEORGE.
+
+
+  Toll for the brave!
+  The brave that are no more!
+  All sunk beneath the wave
+  Fast by their native shore!
+
+  Eight hundred of the brave,
+  Whose courage well was tried,
+  Had made the vessel heel
+  And laid her on her side.
+
+  A land breeze shook the shrouds,
+  And she was overset;
+  Down went the Royal George
+  With all her crew complete.
+
+  Toll for the brave!
+  Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
+  His last sea fight is fought,
+  His work of glory done.
+
+  It was not in the battle;
+  No tempest gave the shock;
+  She sprang no fatal leak,
+  She ran upon no rock.
+
+  His sword was in its sheath,
+  His fingers held the pen,
+  When Kempenfelt went down
+  With twice four hundred men.
+
+  Weigh the vessel up,
+  Once dreaded by our foes!
+  And mingle with our cup
+  The tear that England owes.
+
+  Her timbers yet are sound,
+  And she may float again
+  Full charged with England's thunder,
+  And plow the distant main:
+
+  But Kempenfelt is gone,
+  His victories are o'er;
+  And he and his eight hundred
+  Shall plow the wave no more.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT.
+
+
+  Calm on the listening ear of night
+    Come heaven's melodious strains,
+  Where wild Judea stretches far
+    Her silver-mantled plains.
+
+  Celestial choirs from courts above
+    Shed sacred glories there;
+  And angels, with their sparkling lyres,
+    Make music on the air.
+
+  The answering hills of Palestine
+    Send back the glad reply;
+  And greet, from all their holy heights,
+    The Dayspring from on high.
+
+  O'er the blue depths of Galilee
+    There comes a holier calm,
+  And Sharon waves in solemn praise
+    Her silent groves of palm.
+
+  "Glory to God!" the sounding skies
+    Loud with their anthems ring,
+  "Peace to the earth, good-will to men,
+    From heaven's eternal King!"
+
+  Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!
+    The Savior now is born!
+  And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains
+    Breaks the first Christmas morn.
+
+                                                      EDMUND H. SEARS.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN WILT THOU SAVE THE PEOPLE?
+
+
+  When wilt Thou save the people?
+    O God of mercy, when?
+  Not kings and lords, but nations!
+    Not thrones and crowns, but men!
+  Flowers of Thy heart, O God, are they;
+  Let them not pass, like weeds, away,
+  Their heritage, a sunless day.
+        God, save the people!
+
+  Shall crime bring crime forever,
+    Strength aiding still the strong?
+  Is it Thy will, O Father,
+    That man shall toil for wrong?
+  No, say Thy mountains; No, Thy skies;
+  Man's clouded sun shall brightly rise,
+  And songs ascend, instead of sighs.
+        God, save the people!
+
+  When wilt Thou save the people?
+    O God of mercy, when?
+  The people, Lord, the people,
+    Not thrones and crowns, but men!
+  God save the people; Thine they are,
+  Thy children, as Thine angels fair.
+  From vice, oppression, and despair,
+        God, save the people!
+
+                                                     EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART II._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DANIEL C. FRENCH.
+
+THE MINUTE MAN.]
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+UNION AND LIBERTY.
+
+
+  Flag of the heroes who left us their glory,
+    Borne through their battlefields' thunder and flame,
+  Blazoned in song and illumined in story,
+    Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation,
+    Pride of her children, and honored afar,
+  Let the wide beams of thy full constellation
+    Scatter each cloud that would darken a star!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Empire unsceptered! what foe shall assail thee,
+    Bearing the standard of Liberty's van?
+  Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee,
+    Striving with men for the birthright of man!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted,
+    Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw,
+  Then with the arms of thy millions united,
+    Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,
+    Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun!
+  Thou hast united us, who shall divide us?
+    Keep us, O keep us, the MANY IN ONE!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+                                                OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
+
+
+  Our band is few, but true and tried,
+    Our leader frank and bold;
+  The British soldier trembles
+    When Marion's name is told.
+  Our fortress is the good greenwood,
+    Our tent the cypress tree;
+  We know the forest round us,
+    As seamen know the sea.
+  We know its walls of thorny vines,
+    Its glades of reedy grass,
+  Its safe and silent islands
+    Within the dark morass.
+
+  Woe to the English soldiery
+    That little dread us near,
+  On them shall light at midnight
+    A strange and sudden fear:
+  When, waking to their tents on fire,
+    They grasp their arms in vain,
+  And they who stand to face us
+    Are beat to earth again;
+  And they who fly in terror deem
+    A mighty host behind,
+  And hear the tramp of thousands
+    Upon the hollow wind.
+
+  Then sweet the hour that brings release
+    From danger and from toil:
+  We talk the battle over,
+    And share the battle's spoil.
+  The woodland rings with laugh and shout,
+    As if a hunt were up,
+  And woodland flowers are gathered
+    To crown the soldier's cup.
+  With merry songs we mock the wind
+    That in the pine-top grieves,
+  And slumber long and sweetly
+    On beds of oaken leaves.
+
+  Well knows the fair and friendly moon
+    The band that Marion leads--
+  The glitter of their rifles,
+    The scampering of their steeds.
+  'Tis life to guide the fiery barb
+    Across the moonlight plain;
+  'Tis life to feel the night wind
+    That lifts his tossing mane.
+  A moment in the British camp--
+    A moment--and away
+  Back to the pathless forest,
+    Before the peep of day.
+
+  Grave men there are by broad Santee,
+    Grave men with hoary hairs,
+  Their hearts are all with Marion,
+    For Marion are their prayers.
+  And lovely ladies greet our band
+    With kindliest welcoming,
+  With smiles like those of summer,
+    And tears like those of spring.
+  For them we wear these trusty arms,
+    And lay them down no more
+  Till we have driven the Briton,
+    Forever, from our shore.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+STARS.
+
+
+  They glide upon their endless way,
+    Forever calm, forever bright;
+  No blind hurry, no delay,
+    Mark the Daughters of the Night;
+  They follow in the track of Day,
+    In divine delight.
+
+  Shine on, sweet-orb�d Souls for aye,
+    Forever calm, forever bright;
+  We ask not whither lies your way,
+    Nor whence ye came, nor what your light.
+  Be--still a dream throughout the day,
+    A blessing through the night.
+
+                                BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+  The sun descendeth in the west,
+    The evening star does shine;
+  The birds are silent in their nest,
+    And I must seek for mine.
+      The moon, like a flower,
+      In heaven's high bower,
+      With silent delight
+      Sits and smiles on the night.
+
+  Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
+    Where flocks have ta'en delight;
+  Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
+    The feet of angels bright;
+      Unseen, they pour blessing,
+      And joy without ceasing,
+      On each bud and blossom,
+      And each sleeping bosom.
+
+  They look in every thoughtless nest,
+    Where birds are covered warm,
+  They visit caves of every beast,
+    To keep them all from harm.
+      If they see any weeping
+      That should have been sleeping,
+      They pour sleep on their head,
+      And sit down by their bed.
+
+                                                        WILLIAM BLAKE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.
+
+
+  Of Nelson and the North
+  Sing the glorious day's renown,
+  When to battle fierce came forth
+  All the might of Denmark's crown,
+  And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
+  By each gun the lighted brand
+  In a bold determined hand,
+  And the Prince of all the land
+  Led them on.--
+
+  Like leviathans afloat,
+  Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
+  While the sign of battle flew
+  On the lofty British line:
+  It was ten of April morn by the chime:
+  As they drifted on their path,
+  There was silence deep as death;
+  And the boldest held his breath,
+  For a time.--
+
+  But the might of England flushed
+  To anticipate the scene;
+  And her van the fleeter rushed
+  O'er the deadly space between.
+  "Hearts of oak!" our captains cried; when each gun
+  From its adamantine lips
+  Spread a death shade round the ships,
+  Like the hurricane eclipse
+  Of the sun.
+
+  Again! again! again!
+  And the havoc did not slack,
+  Till a feeble cheer the Dane,
+  To our cheering sent us back;--
+  Their shots along the deep slowly boom:--
+  Then cease--and all is wail,
+  As they strike the shattered sail;
+  Or, in conflagration pale,
+  Light the gloom.--
+
+  Now joy, Old England, raise
+  For the tidings of thy might,
+  By the festal cities' blaze,
+  Whilst the wine cup shines in light;
+  And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
+  Let us think of them that sleep
+  Full many a fathom deep
+  By thy wild and stormy steep,
+  Elsinore.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.
+
+
+  How sleep the brave who sink to rest
+  By all their Country's wishes blest!
+  When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
+  Returns to deck their hallowed mold,
+  She there shall dress a sweeter sod
+  Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
+
+  By fairy hands their knell is rung,
+  By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
+  There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
+  To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
+  And Freedom shall awhile repair
+  To dwell a weeping hermit there!
+
+                                                      WILLIAM COLLINS.
+
+
+
+
+LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG.
+
+
+  The spearmen heard the bugle sound,
+    And cheer'ly smiled the morn;
+  And many a dog, and many a hound,
+    Attend Llewellyn's horn.
+
+  And still he blew a louder blast,
+    And gave a louder cheer;
+  "Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
+    Llewellyn's horn to hear?
+
+  "Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam,
+    The flower of all his race?
+  So true, so brave--a lamb at home,
+    A lion in the chase."
+
+  That day Llewellyn little loved
+    The chase of hart or hare,
+  And scant and small the booty proved,
+    For Gelert was not there.
+
+  Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
+    When, near the portal seat,
+  His truant Gelert he espied,
+    Bounding his lord to greet.
+
+  But when he gained the castle door,
+    Aghast the chieftain stood;
+  The hound was smeared with gouts of gore,
+    His lips and fangs ran blood!
+
+  Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise;
+    Unused such looks to meet,
+  His fav'rite checked his joyful guise,
+    And crouched, and licked his feet.
+
+  Onward in haste Llewellyn passed
+    (And on went Gelert too),
+  And still, where'er his eyes were cast,
+    Fresh blood gouts shocked his view.
+
+  O'erturned his infant's bed he found,
+    The bloodstained cover rent;
+  And all around the walls and ground
+    With recent blood besprent.
+
+  He called his child--no voice replied;
+    He searched with terror wild;
+  Blood! blood! he found on every side,
+    But nowhere found his child!
+
+  "Hell-hound! by thee my child's devoured!"
+    The frantic father cried;
+  And to the hilt his vengeful sword
+    He plunged in Gelert's side.
+
+  His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
+    No pity could impart;
+  But still his Gelert's dying yell
+    Passed heavy o'er his heart.
+
+  Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
+    Some slumberer wakened nigh;
+  What words the parent's joy can tell,
+    To hear his infant cry!
+
+  Concealed beneath a mangled heap,
+    His hurried search had missed,
+  All glowing from his rosy sleep,
+    His cherub boy he kissed!
+
+  Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread,
+    But the same couch beneath
+  Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,--
+    Tremendous still in death!
+
+  Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!
+    For now the truth was clear;
+  The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
+    To save Llewellyn's heir.
+
+  Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe;
+    "Best of thy kind, adieu!
+  The frantic deed which laid thee low
+    This heart shall ever rue!"
+
+  And now a gallant tomb they raised,
+    With costly sculpture decked;
+  And marbles storied with his praise
+    Poor Gelert's bones protect.
+
+  Here never could the spearman pass,
+    Or forester, unmoved,
+  Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass
+    Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
+
+  And here he hung his horn and spear,
+    And oft, as evening fell,
+  In fancy's piercing sounds would hear,
+    Poor Gelert's dying yell.
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+FIDELITY.
+
+
+  A barking sound the shepherd hears,
+  A cry as of a dog or fox;
+  He halts--and searches with his eyes
+  Among the scattered rocks:
+  And now at distance can discern
+  A stirring in a brake of fern;
+  And instantly a dog is seen,
+  Glancing through that covert green.
+
+  The dog is not of mountain breed;
+  Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
+  With something, as the shepherd thinks,
+  Unusual in its cry:
+  Nor is there anyone in sight
+  All round, in hollow or on height;
+  Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
+  What is the creature doing here?
+
+  It was a cove, a huge recess,
+  That keeps, till June, December's snow;
+  A lofty precipice in front,
+  A silent tarn below!
+  Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
+  Remote from public road or dwelling,
+  Pathway, or cultivated land;
+  From trace of human foot or hand.
+
+  There sometimes doth a leaping fish
+  Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
+  The crags repeat the raven's croak,
+  In symphony austere;
+  Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
+  And mists that spread the flying shroud;
+  And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
+  That, if it could, would hurry past;
+  But that enormous barrier holds it fast.
+
+  Not free from boding thoughts, a while
+  The shepherd stood; then makes his way
+  O'er rocks and stones, following the dog
+  As quickly as he may;
+  Nor far had gone before he found
+  A human skeleton on the ground;
+  The appalled discoverer with a sigh
+  Looks round, to learn the history.
+
+  From those abrupt and perilous rocks
+  The man had fallen, that place of fear!
+  At length upon the shepherd's mind
+  It breaks, and all is clear:
+  He instantly recalled the name,
+  And who he was, and whence he came;
+  Remembered, too, the very day
+  On which the traveler passed this way.
+
+  But hear a wonder, for whose sake
+  This lamentable tale I tell!
+  A lasting monument of words
+  This wonder merits well.
+  The dog, which still was hovering nigh,
+  Repeating the same timid cry,
+  This dog, had been through three months' space
+  A dweller in that savage place.
+
+  Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
+  When this ill-fated traveler died,
+  The dog had watched about the spot,
+  Or by his master's side:
+  How nourished here through such long time
+  He knows, who gave that love sublime;
+  And gave that strength of feeling, great
+  Above all human estimate!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
+
+
+  The poetry of earth is never dead:
+    When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
+    And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
+  From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
+  That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
+    In summer luxury,--he has never done
+    With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
+  He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
+  The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
+    On a lone winter evening, when the frost
+  Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
+  The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
+    And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
+  The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
+
+
+  Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,
+  Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
+  Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
+  When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass;
+  And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
+  With those who think the candles come too soon,
+  Loving the fire and with your tricksome tune
+  Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
+  Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,
+  One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
+  Both have your sunshine; both, though small are strong
+  At your dear hearts; and both were sent on earth
+  To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,--
+  Indoors and out, summer and winter, mirth!
+
+                                                           LEIGH HUNT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+EPITAPH ON A HARE.
+
+
+  Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
+    Nor swifter greyhound follow,
+  Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
+    Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo!
+
+  Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
+    Who, nursed with tender care,
+  And to domestic bounds confined,
+    Was still a wild Jack hare.
+
+  Though duly from my hand he took
+    His pittance every night,
+  He did it with a jealous look,
+    And, when he could, would bite.
+
+  His diet was of wheaten bread,
+    And milk, and oats, and straw;
+  Thistles, or lettuces instead,
+    With sand to scour his maw.
+
+  On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
+    On pippin's russet peel,
+  And when his juicy salads failed,
+    Sliced carrot pleased him well.
+
+  A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
+    Whereon he loved to bound,
+  To skip and gambol like a fawn,
+    And swing himself around.
+
+  His frisking was at evening hours,
+    For then he lost his fear,
+  But most before approaching showers,
+    Or when a storm drew near.
+
+  Eight years and five round-rolling moons
+    He thus saw steal away,
+  Dozing out all his idle noons,
+    And every night at play.
+
+  I kept him for his humor's sake,
+    For he would oft beguile
+  My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
+    And force me to a smile.
+
+  But now, beneath this walnut shade,
+    He finds his long last home,
+  And waits, in snug concealment laid,
+    Till gentler Puss shall come.
+
+  He, still more aged, feels the shocks
+    From which no care can save,
+  And, partner once of Tiney's box,
+    Must soon partake his grave.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.
+
+
+    Upon a time a neighing steed,
+  Who grazed among a numerous breed,
+  With mutiny had fired the train,
+  And spread dissension through the plain.
+  On matters that concerned the state,
+  The council met in grand debate.
+  A colt whose eyeballs flamed with ire,
+  Elate with strength and youthful fire,
+  In haste stept forth before the rest,
+  And thus the listening throng addressed:
+    "Goodness, how abject is our race,
+  Condemned to slavery and disgrace!
+  Shall we our servitude retain,
+  Because our sires have borne the chain?
+  Consider, friends! your strength and might;
+  'Tis conquest to assert your right.
+  How cumbrous is the gilded coach!
+  The pride of man is our reproach.
+  Were we designed for daily toil,
+  To drag the plowshare through the soil,
+  To sweat in harness through the road,
+  To groan beneath the carrier's load?
+  How feeble are the two-legg'd kind!
+  What force is in our nerves combined!
+  Shall then our nobler jaws submit
+  To foam and champ the galling bit?
+  Shall haughty man my back bestride?
+  Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?
+  Forbid it, heavens! reject the rein;
+  Your shame, your infamy, disdain.
+  Let him the lion first control,
+  And still the tiger's famished growl.
+  Let us, like them, our freedom claim,
+  And make him tremble at our name."
+    A general nod approved the cause,
+  And all the circle neighed applause.
+  When, lo! with grave and solemn pace,
+  A steed advanced before the race,
+  With age and long experience wise;
+  Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,
+  And, to the murmurs of the train,
+  Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain.
+    "When I had health and strength like you
+  The toils of servitude I knew;
+  Now grateful man rewards my pains,
+  And gives me all these wide domains.
+  At will I crop the year's increase;
+  My latter life is rest and peace.
+  I grant, to man we lend our pains,
+  And aid him to correct the plains;
+  But doth he not divide the care,
+  Through all the labors of the year?
+  How many thousand structures rise,
+  To fence us from inclement skies!
+  For us he bears the sultry day,
+  And stores up all our winter's hay.
+  He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain;
+  We share the toil and share the grain.
+  Since every creature was decreed
+  To aid each other's mutual need,
+  Appease your discontented mind,
+  And act the part by heaven assigned."
+    The tumult ceased, the colt submitted,
+  And, like his ancestors, was bitted.
+
+                                                             JOHN GAY.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+RUTH.
+
+
+  She stood breast high amid the corn,
+  Clasped by the golden light of morn,
+  Like the sweetheart of the sun,
+  Who many a glowing kiss had won.
+
+  On her cheek an autumn flush,
+  Deeply ripened;--such a blush
+  In the midst of brown was born,
+  Like red poppies grown with corn.
+
+  Round her eyes her tresses fell,
+  Which were blackest none could tell,
+  But long lashes veiled a light,
+  That had else been all too bright.
+
+  And her hat, with shady brim,
+  Made her tressy forehead dim;--
+  Thus she stood amid the stocks,
+  Praising God with sweetest looks:--
+
+  Sure, I said, heav'n did not mean,
+  Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,
+  Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
+  Share my harvest and my home.
+
+                                                          THOMAS HOOD.
+
+
+
+
+THE ELIXIR.
+
+
+    Teach me, my God and King,
+    In all things Thee to see,
+  And what I do in anything,
+    To do it as for Thee.
+
+    All may of Thee partake:
+    Nothing can be so mean
+  Which with this tincture, for Thy sake,
+    Will not grow bright and clean.
+
+    A servant with this clause
+    Makes drudgery divine;
+  Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
+    Makes that and the action fine.
+
+    This is the famous stone
+    That turneth all to gold;
+  For that which God doth touch and own
+    Cannot for less be told.
+
+                                                       GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE ANGEL.
+
+
+  Morning, evening, noon, and night,
+  "Praise God!" sang Theocrite.
+
+  Then to his poor trade he turned,
+  Whereby the daily meal was earned.
+
+  Hard he labored, long and well;
+  O'er his work the boy's curls fell.
+
+  But ever, at each period,
+  He stopped and sang, "Praise God!"
+
+  Then back again his curls he threw,
+  And cheerful turned to work anew.
+
+  Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;
+  I doubt not thou art heard, my son:
+
+  "As well as if thy voice to-day
+  Were praising God, the Pope's great way.
+
+  "This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome
+  Praises God from Peter's dome."
+
+  Said Theocrite, "Would God that I
+  Might praise Him that great way, and die!"
+
+  Night passed, day shone,
+  And Theocrite was gone.
+
+  With God a day endures alway,
+  A thousand years are but a day.
+
+  God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night
+  Now brings the voice of my delight."
+
+  Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,
+  Spread his wings and sank to earth;
+
+  Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,
+  Lived there, and played the craftsman well;
+
+  And morning, evening, noon, and night,
+  Praised God in place of Theocrite.
+
+  And from a boy, to youth he grew:
+  The man put off the stripling's hue:
+
+  The man matured and fell away
+  Into the season of decay:
+
+  And ever o'er the trade he bent,
+  And ever lived on earth content.
+
+  (He lived God's will; to him, all one
+  If on the earth or in the sun.)
+
+  God said, "A praise is in mine ear;
+  There is no doubt in it, no fear:
+
+  "So sing old worlds, and so
+  New worlds that from my footstool go.
+
+  "Clearer loves sound other ways:
+  I miss my little human praise."
+
+  Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell
+  The flesh disguise, remained the cell.
+
+  'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,
+  And paused above Saint Peter's dome.
+
+  In the tiring-room close by
+  The great outer gallery,
+
+  With his holy vestments dight,
+  Stood the new Pope Theocrite:
+
+  And all his past career
+  Came back upon him clear,
+
+  Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,
+  Till on his life the sickness weighed;
+
+  And in his cell, when death drew near,
+  An angel in a dream brought cheer:
+
+  And, rising from the sickness drear,
+  He grew a priest, and now stood here.
+
+  To the East with praise he turned,
+  And on his sight the angel burned.
+
+  "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,
+  And set thee here; I did not well.
+
+  "Vainly I left my angel sphere,
+  Vain was thy dream of many a year.
+
+  "Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped--
+  Creation's chorus stopped!
+
+  "Go back and praise again
+  The early way, while I remain.
+
+  "With that weak voice of our disdain,
+  Take up creation's pausing strain.
+
+  "Back to the cell and poor employ:
+  Resume the craftsman and the boy!"
+
+  Theocrite grew old at home;
+  A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.
+
+  One vanished as the other died:
+  They sought God side by side.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
+
+
+  They grew in beauty, side by side,
+    They filled one home with glee;
+  Their graves are severed far and wide,
+    By mount, and stream, and sea.
+
+  The same fond mother bent at night
+    O'er each fair, sleeping brow;
+  She had each folded flower in sight:
+    Where are those sleepers now?
+
+  One, midst the forest of the West,
+    By a dark stream is laid;
+  The Indian knows his place of rest,
+    Far in the cedar shade.
+
+  The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one;
+    He lies where pearls lie deep;
+  He was the loved of all, yet none
+    O'er his low bed may weep.
+
+  One sleeps where southern vines are dressed
+    Above the noble slain;
+  He wrapped the colors round his breast
+    On a blood-red field of Spain.
+
+  And one--o'er her the myrtle showers
+    Its leaves by soft winds fanned;
+  She faded midst Italian flowers--
+    The last of that fair band.
+
+  And parted thus, they rest who played
+    Beneath the same green tree;
+  Whose voices mingled as they prayed
+    Around one parent knee.
+
+  They that with smiles lit up the hall,
+    And cheered with song the hearth;
+  Alas for love! if thou wert all,
+    And nought beyond, O earth!
+
+                                              FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.]
+
+THE EVENING WIND.
+
+
+  Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
+    That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
+  Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow:
+    Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
+  Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
+    Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
+  And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
+  To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!
+
+  Nor I alone--a thousand bosoms round
+    Inhale thee in the fullness of delight;
+  And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
+    Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
+  And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
+    Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.
+  Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,
+  God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!
+
+  Go, rock the little wood bird in his nest,
+    Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
+  The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
+    Summoning from the innumerable boughs
+  The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast:
+    Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
+  The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
+  And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass.
+
+  The faint old man shall lean his silver head
+    To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
+  And dry the moistened curls that overspread
+    His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
+  And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
+    Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
+  And softly part his curtains to allow
+  Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.
+
+  Go--but the circle of eternal change,
+    Which is the life of nature, shall restore,
+  With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
+    Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;
+  Sweet odors in the sea air, sweet and strange,
+    Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;
+  And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem
+  He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL
+
+
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah has triumphed,--His people are free!
+  Sing,--for the pride of the tyrant is broken,
+    His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave,--
+  How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,
+    And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah has triumphed,--His people are free!
+
+  Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord!
+  His word was our arrow, His breath was our sword.
+  Who shall return to tell Egypt the story
+    Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride?
+  For the Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory,
+    And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah hath triumphed,--His people are free!
+
+                                                         THOMAS MOORE.
+
+
+
+
+CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN PEASANTS.
+
+
+  Up! up! ye dames, ye lasses gay!
+    To the meadows trip away,
+    'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
+  And scare the small birds from the corn.
+    Not a soul at home may stay:
+      For the shepherds must go
+      With lance and bow
+  To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
+
+  Leave the hearth and leave the house
+    To the cricket and the mouse:
+    Find grannam out a sunny seat,
+  With babe and lambkin at her feet.
+    Not a soul at home may stay:
+      For the shepherds must go
+      With lance and bow
+  To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
+
+                                              SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.
+
+
+  An ancient story I'll tell you anon
+  Of a notable prince, that was called King John;
+  And he ruled England with main and with might,
+  For he did great wrong and maintained little right.
+
+  And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
+  Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury;
+  How for his housekeeping and high renown,
+  They rode post for him to fair London town.
+
+  An hundred men, the king did hear say,
+  The Abbot kept in his house every day;
+  And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
+  In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.
+
+  "How now, father Abbot, I hear it of thee,
+  Thou keepest a far better house than me;
+  And for thy housekeeping and high renown,
+  I fear thou work'st treason against my crown."
+
+  "My liege," quoth the Abbot, "I would it were known
+  I never spend nothing but what is my own;
+  And I trust your Grace will do me no deere
+  For spending of my own true gotten geere."
+
+[Illustration: KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.]
+
+  "Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high,
+  And now for the same thou needest must die;
+  For except thou canst answer me questions three,
+  Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.
+
+  "And first," quoth the king, "when I'm in this stead,
+  With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
+  Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,
+  Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
+
+  "Secondly tell me, without any doubt,
+  How soon I may ride the whole world about;
+  And at the third question thou must not shrink,
+  But tell me here truly what I do think."
+
+  "O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
+  Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet;
+  But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
+  I'll do my endeavor to answer your Grace."
+
+  "Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,
+  And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
+  For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
+  Thy land and thy livings are forfeit to me."
+
+  Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word,
+  And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;
+  But never a doctor there was so wise,
+  That could with his learning an answer devise.
+
+  Then home rode the Abbot of comfort so cold,
+  And he met his shepherd a-going to fold:
+  "How now, my lord Abbot, you are welcome home;
+  What news do you bring us from good King John?"
+
+  "Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,
+  That I have but three days more to live;
+  For if I do not answer him questions three,
+  My head will be smitten from my bodie.
+
+  "The first is to tell him there in that stead,
+  With his crown of gold so fair on his head,
+  Among all his liegemen so noble of birth,
+  To within one penny of what he is worth.
+
+  "The second to tell him without any doubt,
+  How soon he may ride this whole world about;
+  And at the third question I must not shrink,
+  But tell him there truly what he does think."
+
+  "Now cheer up, sir Abbot, did you never hear yet
+  That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?
+  Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,
+  And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
+
+  "Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me,
+  I am like your lordship as ever may be;
+  And if you will but lend me your gown
+  There is none shall know us in fair London town."
+
+  "Now horses and serving men thou shalt have,
+  With sumptuous array most gallant and brave,
+  With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,
+  Fit to appear 'fore our father the Pope."
+
+  "Now welcome, sir Abbot," the king he did say,
+  "'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day:
+  For and if thou canst answer my questions three,
+  Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.
+
+  "And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,
+  With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
+  Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,
+  Tell me to one penny what I am worth."
+
+  "For thirty pence our Savior was sold
+  Among the false Jews, as I have been told:
+  And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,
+  For I think thou art one penny worser than he."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,
+  "I did not think I had been worth so little!
+  Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,
+  How soon I may ride this whole world about."
+
+  "You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
+  Until the next morning he riseth again;
+  And then your Grace need not make any doubt
+  But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,
+  "I did not think it could be gone so soon.
+  Now from the third question thou must not shrink,
+  But tell me here truly what do I think."
+
+  "Yea, that I shall do and make your Grace merry;
+  You think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury;
+  But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,
+  That am come to beg pardon for him and for me."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by the mass,
+  "I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"
+  "Nay, nay, my liege, be not in such speed,
+  For alack, I can neither write nor read."
+
+  "Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,
+  For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;
+  And tell the old Abbot, when thou com'st home,
+  Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."
+
+                                                         THOMAS PERCY.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.
+
+
+  Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
+  Let them live upon their praises;
+  Long as there's a sun that sets,
+  Primroses will have their glory;
+  Long as there are violets,
+  They will have a place in story:
+  There's a flower that shall be mine,
+  'Tis the little Celandine.
+
+  Eyes of some men travel far
+  For the finding of a star;
+  Up and down the heavens they go,
+  Men that keep a mighty rout!
+  I'm as great as they, I trow,
+  Since the day I found thee out,
+  Little flower!--I'll make a stir,
+  Like a sage astronomer.
+
+  Modest, yet withal an elf
+  Bold, and lavish of thyself;
+  Since we needs must first have met
+  I have seen thee, high and low,
+  Thirty years or more, and yet
+  'Twas a face I did not know;
+  Thou hast now, go where I may,
+  Fifty greetings in a day.
+
+  Ere a leaf is on a bush,
+  In the time before the thrush
+  Has a thought about her nest,
+  Thou wilt come with half a call,
+  Spreading out thy glossy breast
+  Like a careless prodigal;
+  Telling tales about the sun,
+  When we've little warmth, or none.
+
+  Poets, vain men in their mood!
+  Travel with the multitude:
+  Never heed them; I aver
+  That they are all wanton wooers;
+  But the thrifty cottager,
+  Who stirs little out of doors,
+  Joys to spy thee near her home;
+  Spring is coming, thou art come!
+
+  Comfort have thou of thy merit,
+  Kindly, unassuming spirit!
+  Careless of thy neighborhood,
+  Thou dost show thy pleasant face
+  On the moor, and in the wood,
+  In the lane;--there's not a place,
+  Howsoever mean it be,
+  But 'tis good enough for thee.
+
+  Ill befall the yellow flowers,
+  Children of the flaring hours!
+  Buttercups, that will be seen,
+  Whether we will see or no;
+  Others, too, of lofty mien;
+  They have done as worldlings do,
+  Taken praise that should be thine,
+  Little, humble Celandine!
+
+  Prophet of delight and mirth,
+  Ill requited upon earth;
+  Herald of a mighty band,
+  Of a joyous train ensuing,
+  Serving at my heart's command,
+  Tasks that are no tasks renewing,
+  I will sing, as doth behove,
+  Hymns in praise, of what I love!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+THE BELEAGUERED CITY.
+
+
+  I have read, in some old, marvelous tale,
+    Some legend strange and vague,
+  That a midnight host of specters pale
+    Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
+
+  Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,
+    With the wan moon overhead,
+  There stood, as in an awful dream,
+    The army of the dead.
+
+  White as a sea fog, landward bound,
+    The spectral camp was seen,
+  And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
+    The river flowed between.
+
+  No other voice nor sound was there,
+    No drum, nor sentry's pace;
+  The mistlike banners clasped the air,
+    As clouds with clouds embrace.
+
+  But, when the old cathedral bell
+    Proclaimed the morning prayer,
+  The white pavilions rose and fell
+    On the alarm�d air.
+
+[Illustration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.]
+
+  Down the broad valley, fast and far
+    The troubled army fled;
+  Up rose the glorious morning star,
+    The ghastly host was dead.
+
+  I have read, in the marvelous heart of man,
+    That strange and mystic scroll,
+  That an army of phantoms vast and wan
+    Beleaguer the human soul.
+
+  Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
+    In Fancy's misty light,
+  Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
+    Portentous through the night.
+
+  Upon its midnight battle ground
+    The spectral camp is seen,
+  And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
+    Flows the River of Life between.
+
+  No other voice, nor sound is there,
+    In the army of the grave;
+  No other challenge breaks the air,
+    But the rushing of Life's wave.
+
+  And, when the solemn and deep church bell
+    Entreats the soul to pray,
+  The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
+    The shadows sweep away.
+
+  Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
+    The spectral camp is fled;
+  Faith shineth as a morning star,
+    Our ghastly fears are dead.
+
+                                           HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR'S WIFE.
+
+
+  And are ye sure the news is true?
+    And are ye sure he's weel?
+  Is this a time to think o' wark?
+    Ye jades, lay by your wheel;
+  Is this the time to spin a thread,
+    When Colin's at the door?
+  Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,
+    And see him come ashore.
+  For there's nae luck about the house,
+    There's nae luck at a';
+  There's little pleasure in the house
+    When our gudeman's awa.
+
+  And gie to me my bigonet,
+    My bishop's satin gown;
+  For I maun tell the baillie's wife
+    That Colin's in the town.
+  My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
+    My stockins pearly blue;
+  It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,
+    For he's baith leal and true.
+
+  Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,
+    Put on the muckle pot;
+  Gie little Kate her button gown
+    And Jock his Sunday coat;
+  And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
+    Their hose as white as snaw;
+  It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
+    For he's been long awa.
+
+  There's twa fat hens upo' the coop
+    Benn fed this month and mair;
+  Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
+    That Colin weel may fare;
+  And spread the table neat and clean,
+    Gar ilka thing look braw,
+  For wha can tell how Colin fared
+    When he was far awa?
+
+  Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
+    His breath like caller air;
+  His very foot has music in't
+    As he comes up the stair.
+  And will I see his face again?
+    And will I hear him speak?
+  I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
+    In troth I'm like to greet!
+
+  If Colin's well, and weel content,
+    I hae nae mair to crave;
+  And gin I live to keep him sae,
+    I'm blest aboon the lave:
+  And will I see his face again?
+    And will I hear him speak?
+  I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
+    In troth I'm like to greet.
+  For there's nae luck about the house,
+    There's nae luck at a';
+  There's little pleasure in the house
+    When our gudeman's awa.
+
+                                                    WILLIAM J. MICKLE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+SOLDIER AND SAILOR.
+
+
+  I love contemplating, apart
+    From all his homicidal glory,
+  The traits that soften to our heart
+    Napoleon's story!
+
+  'Twas when his banners at Boulogne
+    Armed in our island every freeman,
+  His navy chanced to capture one
+    Poor British seaman.
+
+  They suffered him, I know not how,
+    Unprisoned on the shore to roam;
+  And aye was bent his longing brow
+    On England's home.
+
+  His eye, methinks, pursued the flight
+    Of birds to Britain halfway over
+  With envy; _they_ could reach the white
+    Dear cliffs of Dover.
+
+  A stormy midnight watch, he thought,
+    Than this sojourn would have been dearer,
+  If but the storm his vessel brought
+    To England nearer.
+
+  At last, when care had banished sleep,
+    He saw one morning--dreaming--doating,
+  An empty hogshead from the deep
+    Come shoreward floating;
+
+  He hid it in a cave, and wrought
+    The livelong day laborious; lurking
+  Until he launched a tiny boat
+    By mighty working.
+
+  Heaven help us! 'Twas a thing beyond
+    Description, wretched: such a wherry
+  Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond,
+    Or crossed a ferry.
+
+  For plowing in the salt sea field,
+    It would have made the boldest shudder;
+  Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,
+    No sail--no rudder.
+
+  From neighb'ring woods he interlaced
+    His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
+  And thus equipped he would have passed
+    The foaming billows--
+
+  But Frenchmen caught him on the beach,
+    His little Argo sorely jeering;
+  Till tidings of him chanced to reach
+    Napoleon's hearing.
+
+  With folded arms Napoleon stood,
+    Serene alike in peace and danger;
+  And, in his wonted attitude,
+    Addressed the stranger:--
+
+  "Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass
+    On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned;
+  Thy heart with some sweet British lass
+    Must be impassioned."
+
+  "I have no sweetheart," said the lad;
+    "But--absent long from one another--
+  Great was the longing that I had
+    To see my mother."
+
+  "And so thou shalt," Napoleon said,
+    "Ye've both my favor fairly won;
+  A noble mother must have bred
+    So brave a son."
+
+  He gave the tar a piece of gold,
+    And, with a flag of truce, commanded
+  He should be shipped to England Old,
+    And safely landed.
+
+  Our sailor oft could scantly shift
+    To find a dinner, plain and hearty;
+  But _never_ changed the coin and gift
+    Of Bonapart�.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
+
+
+  It was a summer's evening,
+  Old Kaspar's work was done,
+  And he before his cottage door
+  Was sitting in the sun;
+  And by him sported on the green
+  His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
+
+  She saw her brother Peterkin
+  Roll something large and round,
+  Which he beside the rivulet,
+  In playing there, had found.
+  He came to ask what he had found,
+  That was so large, and smooth, and round.
+
+  Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
+  Who stood expectant by;
+  And then the old man shook his head,
+  And, with a natural sigh,
+  "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
+  "Who fell in the great victory!
+
+  "I find them in the garden,
+  For there's many here about;
+  And often when I go to plow,
+  The plowshare turns them out;
+  For many thousand men," said he,
+  "Were slain in that great victory!"
+
+  "Now, tell us what 'twas all about,"
+  Young Peterkin he cries;
+  And little Wilhelmine looks up
+  With wonder-waiting eyes;
+  "Now tell us all about the war,
+  And what they killed each other for."
+
+  "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
+  "Who put the French to rout;
+  But what they killed each other for
+  I could not well make out.
+  But everybody said," quoth he,
+  "That 'twas a famous victory!
+
+  "My father lived at Blenheim then,
+  Yon little stream hard by;
+  They burned his dwelling to the ground,
+  And he was forced to fly;
+  So with his wife and child he fled,
+  Nor had he where to rest his head.
+
+  "With fire and sword the country round
+  Was wasted far and wide;
+  And many a childing mother then
+  And new-born baby died.
+  But things, like that, you know, must be
+  At every famous victory.
+
+  "They say it was a shocking sight
+  After the field was won;
+  For many thousand bodies here
+  Lay rotting in the sun.
+  But things like that, you know, must be
+  After a famous victory.
+
+  "Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,
+  And our good Prince Eugene."
+  "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
+  Said little Wilhelmine.
+  "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
+  "It was a famous victory!
+
+  "And everybody praised the Duke
+  Who this great fight did win."
+  "But what good came of it at last?"
+  Quoth little Peterkin.
+  "Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
+  "But 'twas a famous victory!"
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE REVENGE.
+
+
+  And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer
+          sea,
+  And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
+  But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still
+          could sting;
+  So they watched what the end would be.
+  And we had not fought them in vain,
+  But in perilous plight were we,
+  Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
+  And half of the rest of us maimed for life
+  In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
+  And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
+  And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it
+          spent;
+  And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
+  But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
+  "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
+  As may never be fought again!
+  We have won great glory, my men!
+  And a day less or more
+  At sea or ashore,
+  We die--does it matter when?
+  Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
+  Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
+
+  And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
+  "We have children, we have wives,
+  And the Lord hath spared our lives.
+  We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
+  We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."
+  And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
+
+  And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
+  Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
+  And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
+  But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
+  "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
+  I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
+  With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"
+  And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+_From "The Revenge."_
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWED GROUND.
+
+
+  What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
+  Its maker meant not should be trod
+  By man, the image of his God,
+      Erect and free,
+  Unscourged by Superstition's rod
+      To bow the knee?
+
+  That's hallowed ground--where, mourned and missed,
+  The lips repose our love has kissed:--
+  But where's their memory's mansion? Is't
+      Yon churchyard's bowers?
+  No! in ourselves their souls exist,
+      A part of ours.
+
+  What hallows ground where heroes sleep?
+  'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap!
+  In dews that heavens far distant weep
+      Their turf may bloom;
+  Or Genii twine beneath the deep
+      Their coral tomb:
+
+  But strew his ashes to the wind
+  Whose sword or voice has served mankind--
+  And is he dead, whose glorious mind
+      Lifts thine on high?--
+  To live in hearts we leave behind,
+      Is not to die.
+
+  Is't death to fall for Freedom's right?
+  He's dead alone that lacks her light!
+  And murder sullies in Heaven's sight
+      The sword he draws:--
+  What can alone ennoble fight?
+      A noble cause!
+
+  What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth
+  To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!--
+  Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth
+      Earth's compass round;
+  And your high priesthood shall make earth
+      _All hallowed ground_.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.
+
+
+  You know we French stormed Ratisbon:
+    A mile or so away
+  On a little mound, Napoleon
+    Stood on our storming-day;
+  With neck out thrust, you fancy how,
+    Legs wide, arms locked behind,
+  As if to balance the prone brow
+    Oppressive with its mind.
+
+  Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans
+    That soar, to earth may fall,
+  Let once my army leader Lannes
+    Waver at yonder wall,--"
+  Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew
+    A rider, bound on bound
+  Full galloping; nor bridle drew
+    Until he reached the mound.
+
+  Then off there flung in smiling joy,
+    And held himself erect
+  By just his horse's mane, a boy:
+    You hardly could suspect--
+  (So tight he kept his lips compressed,
+    Scarce any blood came through),
+  You looked twice ere you saw his breast
+    Was all but shot in two.
+
+  "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace
+    We've got you Ratisbon!
+  The Marshal's in the market place,
+    And you'll be there anon
+  To see your flag-bird flap his vans
+    Where I, to heart's desire,
+  Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
+    Soared up again like fire.
+
+  The chief's eye flashed; but presently
+    Softened itself, as sheathes
+  A film the mother eagle's eye
+    When her bruised eaglet breathes.
+  "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride
+    Touched to the quick, he said:
+  "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
+    Smiling, the boy fell dead.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+THY VOICE IS HEARD THRO' ROLLING DRUMS.
+
+
+  Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
+    That beat to battle where he stands;
+  Thy face across his fancy comes,
+    And gives the battle to his hands:
+  A moment, while the trumpets blow,
+    He sees his brood about thy knee;
+  The next, like fire he meets the foe,
+    And strikes him dead for thine and thee.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+QUIET, LORD, MY FROWARD HEART.
+
+
+  Quiet, Lord, my froward heart:
+  Make me teachable and mild,
+  Upright, simple, free from art,--
+  Make me as a wean�d child:
+  From distrust and envy free,
+  Pleased with all that pleaseth Thee.
+
+  What Thou shalt to-day provide,
+  Let me as a child receive;
+  What to-morrow may betide,
+  Calmly to Thy wisdom leave;
+  'Tis enough that Thou wilt care:
+  Why should I the burden bear?
+
+  As a little child relies
+  On a care beyond his own,
+  Knows he's neither strong nor wise,
+  Fears to stir a step alone;
+  Let me thus with Thee abide,
+  As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
+
+                                                          JOHN NEWTON.
+
+
+
+
+MORNING.
+
+
+  Oh! timely happy, timely wise,
+  Hearts that with rising morn arise!
+  Eyes that the beam celestial view,
+  Which evermore makes all things new!
+
+  New every morning is the love
+  Our wakening and uprising prove;
+  Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
+  Restored to life, and power, and thought.
+
+  New mercies, each returning day,
+  Hover around us while we pray;
+  New perils past, new sins forgiven,
+  New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEBLE.
+
+
+
+
+EVENING.
+
+
+  Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
+  Fold your flocks up, for the air
+  'Gins to thicken, and the sun
+  Already his great course has run.
+  See the dewdrops how they kiss
+  Every little flower that is,
+  Hanging on their velvet heads,
+  Like a rope of crystal beads.
+  See the heavy clouds low falling,
+  And bright Hesperus down calling
+  The dead night from underground,
+  At whose rising, mists unsound,
+  Damps and vapors fly apace,
+  Hovering o'er the wanton face
+  Of these pastures, where they come
+  Striking dead both bud and bloom.
+  Therefore from such danger lock
+  Every one of his loved flock;
+  And let your dogs lie loose without,
+  Lest the wolf come, as a scout
+  From the mountain, and ere day
+  Bear a kid or lamb away;
+  Or the crafty thievish fox
+  Break upon your simple flocks.
+  To secure yourselves from these,
+  Be not too secure in ease.
+  So shall you good shepherds prove,
+  And deserve your master's love.
+  Now, good night! may sweetest slumbers
+  And soft silence fall in numbers
+  On your eyelids; so, farewell;
+  Thus I end my evening knell.
+
+                                                        JOHN FLETCHER.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+  Orpheus with his lute made trees
+  And the mountain tops that freeze
+    Bow themselves when he did sing:
+  To his music, plants and flowers
+  Ever sprung; as sun and showers
+    There had made a lasting spring.
+
+  Everything that heard him play,
+  Even the billows of the sea,
+    Hung their heads, and then lay by.
+  In sweet music is such art,
+  Killing care and grief of heart
+    Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A FAREWELL.
+
+
+  Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
+    Thy tribute wave deliver:
+  No more by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
+    A rivulet, then a river:
+  Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  But here will sigh thine alder tree,
+    And here thine aspen shiver;
+  And here by thee will hum the bee,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  A thousand suns will stream on thee.
+    A thousand moons will quiver;
+  But not by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+TO A MOUSE.
+
+ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOW.
+
+
+  Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
+  O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
+  Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
+                    Wi' bickering brattle!
+  I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
+                    Wi' murd'ring pattle!
+
+  I'm truly sorry man's dominion
+  Has broken nature's social union,
+  An' justifies that ill opinion,
+                    Which makes thee startle
+  At me, thy poor earthborn companion,
+                    An' fellow mortal!
+
+  I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
+  What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
+  A daimen icker in a thrave
+                    'S a sma' request:
+  I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
+                    And never miss't!
+
+  Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;
+  Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
+  An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
+                    O' foggage green!
+  An' bleak December's winds ensuin',
+                    Baith snell and keen!
+
+  Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
+  An' weary winter comin' fast,
+  An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
+                    Thou thought to dwell,
+  Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
+                    Out thro' thy cell.
+
+  That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
+  Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
+  Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
+                    But house or hald,
+  To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
+                    An' cranreuch cauld!
+
+  But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
+  In proving foresight may be vain:
+  The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
+                    Gang aft a-gley,
+  An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
+                    For promis'd joy.
+
+  Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
+  The present only toucheth thee:
+  But, och! I backward cast my e'e,
+                    On prospects drear!
+  An' forward, tho' I canna see,
+                    I guess an' fear.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A SELECTION FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
+
+
+    There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
+    There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
+    There is society where none intrudes,
+    By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
+    I love not man the less, but Nature more,
+    From these our interviews, in which I steal
+    From all I may be, or have been before,
+    To mingle with the Universe, and feel
+  What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
+
+    Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
+    Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;--
+    Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
+    Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain
+    The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
+    A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
+    When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
+    He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
+  Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
+
+    The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
+    Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
+    And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
+    The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
+    Their clay creator the vain title take
+    Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;
+    These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
+    They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
+  Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
+
+    Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee--
+    Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
+    Thy waters washed them power while they were free,
+    And many a tyrant since: their shores obey
+    The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
+    Has dried up realms to deserts:--not so thou,
+    Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play--
+    Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow--
+  Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
+
+    Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
+    Glasses itself in tempests; in all time
+    Calm or convulsed--in breeze, or gale, or storm,
+    Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
+    Dark-heaving;--boundless, endless, and sublime--
+    The image of Eternity--the throne
+    Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
+    The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
+  Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
+
+    And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
+    Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
+    Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
+    I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me
+    Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
+    Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear,
+    For I was as it were a child of thee,
+    And trusted to thy billows far and near,
+  And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING.
+
+
+  Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!
+    Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!
+  Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
+    Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!
+
+  Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining,
+    Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;
+  Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
+    Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!
+
+  Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
+    Odors of Edom and offerings divine?
+  Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
+    Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?
+
+  Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
+    Vainly with gifts would His favor secure:
+  Richer by far is the heart's adoration;
+    Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
+
+  Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!
+    Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!
+  Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
+    Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!
+
+                                                       REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART III._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CONCORD BRIDGE.]
+
+
+
+
+PART THREE.
+
+
+
+
+CONCORD HYMN.
+
+SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836.
+
+
+  By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
+    Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
+  Here once the embattled farmers stood,
+    And fired the shot heard round the world.
+
+  The foe long since in silence slept;
+    Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
+  And Time the ruined bridge has swept
+    Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
+
+  On this green bank, by this soft stream,
+     We set to-day a votive stone;
+  That memory may their deed redeem,
+    When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
+
+  Spirit, that made those heroes dare
+    To die, and leave their children free,
+  Bid Time and Nature gently spare
+    The shaft we raise to them and thee.
+
+                                                  RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
+
+
+
+
+MONTEREY.
+
+
+  We were not many--we who stood
+    Before the iron sleet that day--
+  Yet many a gallant spirit would
+  Give half his years if he but could
+    Have been with us at Monterey.
+
+  Now here, now there, the shot, it hailed
+    In deadly drifts of fiery spray,
+  Yet not a single soldier quailed
+  When wounded comrades round them wailed
+    Their dying shout at Monterey.
+
+  And on--still on our column kept
+    Through walls of flame its withering way;
+  Where fell the dead, the living stept,
+  Still charging on the guns that swept
+    The slippery streets of Monterey.
+
+  The foe himself recoiled aghast,
+    When, striking where he strongest lay,
+  We swooped his flanking batteries past
+  And braving full their murderous blast
+    Stormed home the towers of Monterey.
+
+  Our banners on those turrets wave,
+    And there our evening bugles play;
+  Where orange boughs above their grave
+  Keep green the memory of the brave
+    Who fought and fell at Monterey.
+
+  We are not many--we who pressed
+    Beside the brave who fell that day;
+  But who of us has not confessed
+  He'd rather share their warrior rest,
+    Than not have been at Monterey?
+
+                                                CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN.
+
+
+
+
+YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
+
+
+  Ye mariners of England
+  That guard our native seas!
+  Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
+  The battle and the breeze!
+  Your glorious standard launch again
+  To match another foe:
+  And sweep through the deep,
+  While the stormy winds do blow;
+  While the battle rages loud and long
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  The spirits of your fathers
+  Shall start from every wave--
+  For the deck it was their field of fame,
+  And Ocean was their grave:
+  Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
+  Your manly hearts shall glow,
+  As ye sweep through the deep,
+  While the stormy winds do blow;
+  While the battle rages loud and long
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  Britannia needs no bulwarks
+  No towers along the steep;
+  Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
+  Her home is on the deep.
+  With thunders from her native oak
+  She quells the floods below--
+  As they roar on the shore,
+  When the stormy winds do blow;
+  When the battle rages loud and long,
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  The meteor flag of England
+  Shall yet terrific burn;
+  Till danger's troubled night depart
+  And the star of peace return.
+  Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
+  Our song and feast shall flow
+  To the fame of your name,
+  When the storm has ceased to blow;
+  When the fiery fight is heard no more,
+  And the storm has ceased to blow.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ADMIRAL HORATIO NELSON.]
+
+THE DEATH OF NELSON.
+
+
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's bay
+  We saw the Frenchmen lay;
+    Each heart was bounding then.
+  We scorned the foreign yoke,
+  Our ships were British oak,
+    And hearts of oak our men.
+  Our Nelson marked them on the wave,
+  Three cheers our gallant seamen gave,
+    Nor thought of home and beauty.
+  Along the line this signal ran,--
+  "England expects that every man
+    This day will do his duty."
+
+  And now the cannons roar
+  Along the affrighted shore;
+    Brave Nelson led the way:
+  His ship the Victory named;
+  Long be that victory famed!
+    For victory crowned the day.
+  But dearly was that conquest bought,
+  Too well the gallant hero fought
+    For England, home, and beauty.
+  He cried, as 'midst the fire he ran,--
+  "England shall find that every man
+    This day will do his duty!"
+
+  At last the fatal wound
+  Which shed dismay around,
+    The hero's breast received.
+  "Heaven fights on our side;
+  The day's our own!" he cried;
+    "Now long enough I've lived.
+  In honor's cause my life was passed,
+  In honor's cause I fall at last,
+    For England, home, and beauty!"
+  Thus ending life as he began;
+  England confessed that every man
+    That day had done his duty.
+
+                                                               ARNOLD.
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES KINGSLEY.]
+
+ODE TO THE NORTHEAST WIND.
+
+
+  Welcome, wild Northeaster!
+    Shame it is to see
+  Odes to every zephyr;
+    Ne'er a verse to thee.
+  Welcome, black Northeaster!
+    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 dike;
+  Hunger into madness
+    Every plunging pike.
+  Fill the lake with wild fowl;
+    Fill the marsh with snipe;
+  While on dreary moorlands
+    Lonely curlew pipe.
+  Through the black fir forest
+    Thunder harsh and dry,
+  Shattering down the snowflakes
+    Off the curdled sky.
+  Hark! the brave Northeaster!
+    Breast high lies the scent,
+  On by bolt and headland,
+    Over heath and bent.
+  Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+    Through the sleet and snow,
+  Who can override you?
+    Let the horses go!
+  Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+    Down the roaring blast;
+  You shall see a fox die
+    Ere an hour be past.
+  Go! and rest to-morrow,
+    Hunting in your dreams,
+  While our skates are ringing
+    O'er the frozen streams.
+  Let the luscious South wind
+    Breathe in lovers' sighs,
+  While the lazy gallants
+    Bask in ladies' eyes.
+  What does he but soften
+    Heart alike and pen?
+  'Tis the hard gray weather
+    Breeds hard English men.
+  What's the soft Southwester?
+    'Tis the ladies' breeze,
+  Bringing home their true loves
+    Out of all the seas;
+  But the black Northeaster,
+    Through the snowstorm hurled,
+  Drives our English hearts of oak
+    Seaward round the world!
+  Come! as came our fathers,
+    Heralded by thee,
+  Conquering from the eastward,
+    Lords by land and sea.
+  Come! and strong within us
+    Stir the Vikings' blood;
+  Bracing brain and sinew;
+    Blow, thou wind of God!
+
+                                                     CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+
+
+
+ENGLAND.
+
+
+  This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
+  This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
+  This other Eden, demi-paradise,
+  This fortress built by Nature for herself
+  Against infection and the hand of war,
+  This happy breed of men, this little world,
+  This precious stone set in the silver sea,
+  Which serves it in the office of a wall
+  Or as a moat defensive to a house,
+  Against the envy of less happier lands,
+  This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+_From "Richard II."_
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE GREEKS.
+
+
+  Again to the battle, Achaians!
+  Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
+  Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree--
+  It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
+  For the cross of our faith is replanted,
+  The pale dying crescent is daunted,
+  And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves
+  May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves.
+  Their spirits are hovering o'er us,
+  And the sword shall to glory restore us.
+
+  Ah! what though no succor advances,
+  Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances
+  Are stretched in our aid--be the combat our own!
+  And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone;
+  For we've sworn by our country's assaulters,
+  By the virgins they've dragged from our altars,
+  By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,
+  By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,
+  That, living, we shall be victorious,
+  Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious.
+
+  A breath of submission we breathe not;
+  The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not!
+  Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,
+  And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.
+  Earth may hide--waves engulf--fire consume us,
+  But they shall not to slavery doom us:
+  If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves;
+  But we've smote them already with fire on the waves,
+  And new triumphs on the land are before us,
+  To the charge!--Heaven's banner is o'er us.
+
+  This day shall ye blush for its story,
+  Or brighten your lives with its glory.
+  Our women, oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,
+  Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair?
+  Accursed may his memory blacken,
+  If a coward there be that would slacken
+  Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth
+  Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.
+  Strike home, and the world shall revere us
+  As heroes descended from heroes.
+
+  Old Greece lightens up with emotion
+  Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean;
+  Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring,
+  And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring:
+  Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,
+  That were cold and extinguished in sadness;
+  Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms,
+  Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms,
+  When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens
+  Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+SHERIDAN'S RIDE.
+
+OCTOBER 19, 1864.
+
+
+  Up from the South at break of day,
+  Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
+  The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
+  Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
+  The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
+  Telling the battle was on once more,
+  And Sheridan twenty miles away.
+
+  And wider still those billows of war
+  Thundered along the horizon's bar;
+  And louder yet into Winchester rolled
+  The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
+  Making the blood of the listener cold,
+  As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
+  And Sheridan twenty miles away.
+
+  But there is a road from Winchester town,
+  A good broad highway leading down;
+  And there, through the flash of the morning light,
+  A steed as black as the steeds of night
+  Was seen to pass as with eagle flight;
+  As if he knew the terrible need,
+  He stretched away with the utmost speed;
+  Hills rose and fell--but his heart was gay,
+  With Sheridan fifteen miles away.
+
+  Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,
+  The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth;
+  On the tail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
+  Forboding to traitors the doom of disaster.
+  The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
+  Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
+  Impatient to be where the battlefield calls;
+  Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
+  With Sheridan only ten miles away.
+
+  Under his spurning feet the road
+  Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
+  And the landscape flowed away behind,
+  Like an ocean flying before the wind;
+  And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
+  Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire;
+  But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire,
+  He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
+  With Sheridan only five miles away.
+
+  The first that the General saw were the groups
+  Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
+  What was done--what to do--a glance told him both,
+  Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,
+  He dashed down the lines 'mid a storm of huzzas,
+  And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because
+  The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
+  With foam and with dust the black charger was gray,
+  By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play
+  He seemed to the whole great army to say:
+  "I've brought you Sheridan all the way
+  From Winchester down to save the day!"
+
+  Hurrah! hurrah! for Sheridan!
+  Hurrah! hurrah! for horse and man!
+  And when their statues are placed on high,
+  Under the dome of the Union sky--
+  The American soldier's temple of fame--
+  There with the glorious General's name,
+  Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:
+  "Here is the steed that saved the day
+  By carrying Sheridan into the fight
+  From Winchester, twenty miles away!"
+
+                                                 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE HURRICANE.
+
+
+    Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
+  I know thy breath in the burning sky!
+  And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
+  For the coming of the hurricane!
+
+    And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,
+  Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;
+  Silent and slow, and terribly strong,
+  The mighty shadow is borne along,
+  Like the dark eternity to come;
+  While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
+  Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere,
+  Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.
+
+    They darken fast; and the golden blaze
+  Of the sun is quenched in the lurid haze,
+  And he sends through the shade a funeral ray--
+  A glare that is neither night nor day,
+  A beam that touches, with hues of death,
+  The clouds above and the earth beneath.
+  To its covert glides the silent bird,
+  While the hurricane's distant voice is heard
+  Uplifted among the mountains round,
+  And the forests hear and answer the sound.
+
+    He is come! he is come! do ye not behold
+  His ample robes on the winds unrolled?
+  Giant of air! we bid thee hail!--
+  How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale:
+  How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
+  To clasp the zone of the firmament,
+  And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
+  From mountain to mountain the visible space.
+
+    Darker--still darker! the whirlwinds bear
+  The dust of the plains to the middle air:
+  And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
+  Of the chariot of God in the thundercloud!
+  You may trace its path by the flashes that start
+  From the rapid wheels where'er they dart,
+  As the fire-bolts leap to the world below,
+  And flood the skies with a lurid glow.
+
+    What roar is that?--'tis the rain that breaks
+  In torrents away from the airy lakes,
+  Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
+  And shedding a nameless horror round.
+  Ah! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies,
+  With the very clouds!--ye are lost to my eyes.
+  I seek ye vainly, and see in your place
+  The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,
+  A whirling ocean that fills the wall
+  Of the crystal heaven, and buries all.
+  And I, cut off from the world, remain
+  Alone with the terrible hurricane.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: JOSEPH ADDISON.]
+
+WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD.
+
+
+  When all Thy mercies, O my God,
+    My rising soul surveys;
+  Transported with the view, I'm lost
+    In wonder, love, and praise.
+
+  O how shall words with equal warmth
+    The gratitude declare
+  That glows within my ravished heart!
+    But Thou canst read it there.
+
+  Unnumbered comforts on my soul
+    Thy tender care bestowed,
+  Before my infant heart conceived
+    From whom these comforts flowed.
+
+  Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
+    My daily thanks employ;
+  Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
+    That tastes those gifts with joy.
+
+  Through every period of my life,
+    Thy goodness I'll pursue;
+  And after death in distant worlds,
+    The glorious theme renew.
+
+  Through all eternity, to Thee
+    A joyful song I'll raise;
+  For, oh! eternity's too short
+    To utter all Thy praise.
+
+                                                       JOSEPH ADDISON.
+
+
+
+
+THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
+
+
+  I say to thee, do thou repeat
+  To the first man thou mayest meet
+  In lane, highway, or open street--
+
+  That he and we and all men move
+  Under a canopy of love,
+  As broad as the blue sky above;
+
+  That doubt and trouble, fear and pain
+  And anguish, all are shadows vain,
+  That death itself shall not remain;
+
+  That weary deserts we may tread,
+  A dreary labyrinth may thread,
+  Through dark ways underground be led;
+
+  Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
+  The dreariest path, the darkest way,
+  Shall issue out in heavenly day;
+
+  And we, on divers shores now cast,
+  Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
+  All in our Father's house at last.
+
+                                                    RICHARD C. TRENCH.
+
+
+
+
+THE NOBLE NATURE.
+
+
+  It is not growing like a tree
+  In bulk, doth make man better be;
+  Or standing long an oak three hundred year,
+  To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere;
+      A lily of a day
+      Is fairer far in May,
+  Although it fall and die that night--
+  It was the plant and flower of Light.
+  In small proportions we just beauty see;
+  And in short measures life may perfect be.
+
+                                                           BEN JONSON.
+
+
+
+
+WINSTANLEY.
+
+
+  Winstanley's deed, you kindly folk,
+    With it I fill my lay,
+  And a nobler man ne'er walked the world,
+    Let his name be what it may.
+
+  The good ship Snowdrop tarried long;
+    Up at the vane looked he;
+  "Belike," he said, for the wind had dropped,
+    "She lieth becalmed at sea."
+
+  The lovely ladies flocked within,
+    And still would each one say,
+  "Good mercer, be the ships come up?"--
+    But still he answered, "Nay."
+
+  Then stepped two mariners down the street,
+    With looks of grief and fear:
+  "Now, if Winstanley be your name,
+    We bring you evil cheer!
+
+  "For the good ship Snowdrop struck,--she struck
+    On the rock,--the Eddystone,
+  And down she went with threescore men,
+    We two being left alone.
+
+  "Down in the deep with freight and crew,
+    Past any help she lies,
+  And never a bale has come to shore
+    Of all thy merchandise."
+
+  "For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,"
+    Winstanley said and sighed,
+  "For velvet coif, or costly coat,
+    They fathoms deep may bide.
+
+  "O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind,
+    O mariners, bold and true,
+  Sorry at heart, right sorry am I,
+    A-thinking of yours and you.
+
+  "Many long days Winstanley's breast
+    Shall feel a weight within,
+  For a waft of wind he shall be 'feared,
+    And trading count but sin.
+
+  "To him no more it shall be joy
+    To pace the cheerful town,
+  And see the lovely ladies gay
+    Step on in velvet gown."
+
+  The Snowdrop sank at Lammas tide,
+    All under the yeasty spray;
+  On Christmas Eve the brig Content
+    Was also cast away.
+
+  He little thought o' New Year's night,
+    So jolly as he sat then,
+  While drank the toast and praised the roast
+    The round-faced Aldermen,--
+
+  He little thought on Plymouth Hoe,
+    With every rising tide,
+  How the wave washed in his sailor lads,
+    And laid them by his side.
+
+  There stepped a stranger to the board:
+    "Now, stranger, who be ye?"
+  He looked to the right, he looked to the left,
+    And "Rest you merry," quoth he;
+
+  "For you did not see the brig go down,
+    Or ever a storm had blown;
+  For you did not see the white wave rear
+    At the rock,--the Eddystone.
+
+  "She drave at the rock with stern sails set;
+    Crash went the masts in twain;
+  She staggered back with her mortal blow,
+    Then leaped at it again.
+
+  "There rose a great cry, bitter and strong;
+    The misty moon looked out!
+  And the water swarmed with seamen's heads,
+    And the wreck was strewed about.
+
+  "I saw her mainsail lash the sea,
+    As I clung to the rock alone;
+  Then she heeled over, and down she went,
+    And sank like any stone.
+
+  "She was a fair ship, but all's one!
+    For naught could bide the shock."--
+  "I will take horse," Winstanley said,
+    "And see this deadly rock.
+
+  "For never again shall bark o' mine
+    Sail o'er the windy sea,
+  Unless, by the blessing of God, for this
+    Be found a remedy."
+
+  Winstanley rode to Plymouth town
+    All in the sleet and the snow;
+  And he looked around on shore and sound,
+    As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.
+
+  Till a pillar of spray rose far away,
+    And shot up its stately head,
+  Reared, and fell over, and reared again:
+    "'Tis the rock! the rock!" he said.
+
+  Straight to the Mayor he took his way:
+    "Good Master Mayor," quoth he,
+  "I am a mercer of London town,
+    And owner of vessels three.
+
+  "But for your rock of dark renown,
+    I had five to track the main."--
+  "You are one of many," the old Mayor said,
+    "That of the rock complain.
+
+  "An ill rock, mercer! your words ring right,
+    Well with my thoughts they chime,
+  For my two sons to the world to come
+    It sent before their time."
+
+  "Lend me a lighter, good Master Mayor,
+    And a score of shipwrights free;
+  For I think to raise a lantern tower
+    On this rock o' destiny."
+
+  The old Mayor laughed, but sighed also:
+    "Ah, youth," quoth he, "is rash;
+  Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it out
+    From the sea that doth it lash.
+
+  "Who sails too near its jagged teeth,
+    He shall have evil lot;
+  For the calmest seas that tumble there
+    Froth like a boiling pot.
+
+  "And the heavier seas few look on nigh,
+    But straight they lay him dead;
+  A seventy-gun-ship, sir!--they'll shoot
+    Higher than her masthead.
+
+  "Oh, beacons sighted in the dark,
+    They are right welcome things,
+  And pitch pots flaming on the shore
+    Show fair as angel wings.
+
+  "Hast gold in hand? then light the land,
+    It 'longs to thee and me;
+  But let alone the deadly rock
+    In God Almighty's sea."
+
+  Yet said he, "Nay,--I must away,
+    On the rock to set my feet;
+  My debts are paid, my will I made,
+    Or ever I did thee greet.
+
+  "If I must die, then let me die
+    By the rock and not elsewhere;
+  If I may live, Oh let me live
+    To mount my lighthouse stair."
+
+  The old Mayor looked him in the face,
+    And answered, "Have thy way;
+  Thy heart is stout, as if round about
+    It was braced with an iron stay:
+
+  "Have thy will, mercer! choose thy men,
+    Put off from the storm-rid shore;
+  God with thee be, or I shall see
+    Thy face and theirs no more."
+
+  Heavily plunged the breaking wave,
+    And foam flew up the lea;
+  Morning and even the drifted snow
+    Fell into the dark gray sea.
+
+  Winstanley chose him men and gear;
+    He said, "My time I waste,"
+  For the seas ran seething up the shore,
+    And the wrack drave on in haste.
+
+  But twenty days he waited and more,
+    Pacing the strand alone,
+  Or ever he sat his manly foot
+    On the rock,--the Eddystone.
+
+  Then he and the sea began their strife,
+    And worked with power and might;
+  Whatever the man reared up by day
+    The sea broke down by night.
+
+  He wrought at ebb with bar and beam,
+    He sailed to shore at flow;
+  And at his side, by that same tide,
+    Came bar and beam also.
+
+  "Give in, give in," the old Mayor cried,
+    "Or thou wilt rue the day."--
+  "Yonder he goes," the townsfolk sighed,
+    "But the rock will have its way.
+
+  "For all his looks that are so stout,
+    And his speeches brave and fair,
+  He may wait on the wind, wait on the wave,
+    But he'll build no lighthouse there."
+
+  In fine weather and foul weather
+    The rock his arts did flout,
+  Through the long days and the short days,
+    Till all that year ran out.
+
+  With fine weather and foul weather
+    Another year came in;
+  "To take his wage," the workmen said,
+    "We almost count a sin."
+
+  Now March was gone, came April in,
+    And a sea fog settled down,
+  And forth sailed he on a glassy sea,
+    He sailed from Plymouth town.
+
+  With men and stores he put to sea,
+    As he was wont to do:
+  They showed in the fog like ghosts full faint,--
+    A ghostly craft and crew.
+
+  And the sea fog lay and waxed alway,
+    For a long eight days and more;
+  "God help our men," quoth the women then
+    "For they bide long from shore."
+
+  They paced the Hoe in doubt and dread;
+    "Where may our mariners be?"
+  But the brooding fog lay soft as down
+    Over the quiet sea.
+
+  A Scottish schooner made the port,
+    The thirteenth day at e'en;
+  "As I am a man," the captain cried,
+    "A strange sight I have seen:
+
+  "And a strange sound heard, my masters all,
+    At sea, in the fog and the rain,
+  Like shipwrights' hammers tapping low,
+    Then loud, then low again.
+
+  "And a stately house one instant showed,
+    Through a rift on the vessel's lea;
+  What manner of creatures may be those
+    That build upon the sea."
+
+  Then sighed the folk, "The Lord be praised!"
+    And they flocked to the shore amain:
+  All over the Hoe that livelong night,
+    Many stood out in the rain.
+
+  It ceased; and the red sun reared his head,
+    And the rolling fog did flee;
+  And, lo! in the offing faint and far
+    Winstanley's house at sea!
+
+  In fair weather with mirth and cheer
+    The stately tower uprose;
+  In foul weather with hunger and cold
+    They were content to close;
+
+  Till up the stair Winstanley went,
+    To fire the wick afar;
+  And Plymouth in the silent night
+    Looked out and saw her star.
+
+  Winstanley set his foot ashore;
+    Said he, "My work is done;
+  I hold it strong to last as long
+    As aught beneath the sun.
+
+  "But if it fail, as fail it may,
+    Borne down with ruin and rout,
+  Another than I shall rear it high,
+    And brace the girders stout.
+
+  "A better than I shall rear it high,
+    For now the way is plain;
+  And though I were dead," Winstanley said,
+    "The light would shine again.
+
+  "Yet were I fain still to remain,
+    Watch in my tower to keep,
+  And tend my light in the stormiest night
+    That ever did move the deep;
+
+  "And if it stood, why then 'twere good,
+    Amid their tremulous stirs,
+  To count each stroke when the mad waves broke,
+    For cheers of mariners.
+
+  "But if it fell, then this were well,
+    That I should with it fall;
+  Since, for my part, I have built my heart
+    In the courses of its wall.
+
+  "Ay! I were fain, long to remain,
+    Watch in my tower to keep,
+  And tend my light in the stormiest night
+    That ever did move the deep."
+
+  With that Winstanley went his way,
+    And left the rock renowned,
+  And summer and winter his pilot star
+    Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.
+
+  But it fell out, fell out at last,
+    That he would put to sea,
+  To scan once more his lighthouse tower
+    On the rock o' destiny.
+
+  And the winds broke, and the storm broke,
+    And wrecks came plunging in;
+  None in the town that night lay down
+    Or sleep or rest to win.
+
+  The great mad waves were rolling graves,
+    And each flung up its dead;
+  The seething flow was white below,
+    And black the sky o'erhead.
+
+  And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn,
+    Broke on the trembling town,
+  And men looked south to the harbor mouth,
+    The lighthouse tower was down.
+
+  Down in the deep, where he doth sleep
+    Who made it shine afar,
+  And then in the night that drowned its light,
+    Set, with his pilot star.
+
+  Many fair tombs in the glorious glooms
+    At Westminster they show;
+  The brave and the great lie there in state;
+    Winstanley lieth low.
+
+                                                         JEAN INGELOW.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE STORM.
+
+
+  The tempest rages wild and high,
+  The waves lift up their voice and cry
+  Fierce answers to the angry sky,--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Through the black night and driving rain,
+  A ship is struggling, all in vain,
+  To live upon the stormy main;--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
+  Vain is it now to strive or dare;
+  A cry goes up of great despair,--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The stormy voices of the main,
+  The moaning wind and pelting rain
+  Beat on the nursery window pane:--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Warm curtained was the little bed,
+  Soft pillowed was the little head;
+  "The storm will wake the child," they said:--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Cowering among his pillows white
+  He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
+  "Father, save those at sea to-night!"--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The morning shone all clear and gay,
+  On a ship at anchor in the bay,
+  And on a little child at play,--
+                      _Gloria tibi Domine!_
+
+                                                ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.
+
+
+
+
+REST.
+
+
+  Rest is not quitting
+    The busy career;
+  Rest is the fitting
+    Of self to one's sphere:
+
+  'Tis the brook's motion,
+    Clear without strife;
+  Fleeting to ocean,
+    After its life:
+
+  'Tis loving and serving
+    The highest and best;
+  'Tis onward, unswerving,
+    And this is true rest.
+
+                                                               GOETHE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE GRASSHOPPER.
+
+
+  Happy insect! what can be
+  In happiness compared to thee?
+  Fed with nourishment divine,
+  The dewy morning's gentle wine!
+  Nature waits upon thee still,
+  And thy verdant cup does fill;
+  'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread,
+  Nature's self thy Ganymede.
+  Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing,
+  Happier than the happiest king!
+  All the fields which thou dost see,
+  All the plants belong to thee,
+  All that summer hours produce,
+  Fertile made with early juice:
+  Man for thee does sow and plow;
+  Farmer he and landlord thou!
+  Thou dost innocently joy,
+  Nor does thy luxury destroy.
+  The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
+  More harmonious than he.
+  Thee, country minds with gladness hear,
+  Prophet of the ripened year:
+  Thee Phoebus loves and does inspire;
+  Phoebus is himself thy sire.
+  To thee of all things upon earth,
+  Life is no longer than thy mirth.
+  Happy insect! happy thou,
+  Dost neither age nor winter know:
+  But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung
+  Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
+  (Voluptuous and wise withal,
+  Epicurean animal,)
+  Sated with the summer feast
+  Thou retir'st to endless rest.
+
+                                                       ABRAHAM COWLEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE CRICKET.
+
+
+  Little inmate, full of mirth,
+  Chirping on my kitchen hearth,
+  Wheresoe'er be thine abode,
+  Always harbinger of good,
+  Pay me for thy warm retreat
+  With a song more soft and sweet;
+  In return thou shalt receive
+  Such a strain as I can give.
+
+  Thus thy praise shall be expressed,
+  Inoffensive, welcome guest!
+  While the rat is on the scout,
+  And the mouse with curious snout,
+  With what vermin else infest
+  Ev'ry dish, and spoil the best;
+  Frisking thus before the fire,
+  Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
+
+  Though in voice and shape they be
+  Formed as if akin to thee,
+  Thou surpassest, happier far,
+  Happiest grasshoppers that are;
+  Theirs is but a summer's song,
+  Thine endures the winter long,
+  Unimpaired, and shrill, and clear,
+  Melody throughout the year.
+
+  Neither night, nor dawn of day,
+  Puts a period to thy play:
+  Sing then--and extend thy span
+  Far beyond the date of man.
+  Wretched man, whose years are spent
+  In repining discontent,
+  Lives not, aged though he be,
+  Half a span, compared with thee.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+A WREN'S NEST.
+
+
+  Among the dwellings framed by birds
+    In field or forest with nice care,
+  Is none that with the little wren's
+    In snugness may compare.
+
+  No door the tenement requires,
+    And seldom needs a labored roof;
+  Yet is it to the fiercest sun
+    Impervious, and stormproof.
+
+  So warm, so beautiful withal,
+    In perfect fitness for its aim,
+  That to the kind by special grace
+    Their instinct surely came.
+
+  And when for their abodes they seek
+    An opportune recess,
+  The hermit has no finer eye
+    For shadowy quietness.
+
+  These find, 'mid ivied abbey walls,
+    A canopy in some still nook;
+  Others are penthoused by a brae
+    That overhangs a brook.
+
+  There to the brooding bird her mate
+    Warbles by fits his low clear song;
+  And by the busy streamlet both
+    Are sung to all day long.
+
+  Or in sequestered lanes they build,
+    Where, till the flitting bird's return,
+  Her eggs within the nest repose,
+    Like relics in an urn.
+
+  But still, where general choice is good,
+    There is a better and a best;
+  And, among fairest objects, some
+    Are fairer than the rest;
+
+  This, one of those small builders proved
+    In a green covert, where, from out
+  The forehead of a pollard oak,
+    The leafy antlers sprout;
+
+  For she who planned the mossy lodge,
+    Mistrusting her evasive skill,
+  Had to a primrose looked for aid
+    Her wishes to fulfill.
+
+  High on the trunk's projecting brow,
+    And fixed an infant's span above
+  The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,
+    The prettiest of the grove!
+
+  The treasure proudly did I show
+    To some whose minds without disdain
+  Can turn to little things; but once
+    Looked up for it in vain:
+
+  'Tis gone--a ruthless spoiler's prey,
+    Who heeds not beauty, love, or song,
+  'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved
+    Indignant at the wrong.
+
+  Just three days after, passing by
+    In clearer light the moss-built cell
+  I saw, espied its shaded mouth;
+    And felt that all was well.
+
+  The primrose for a veil had spread
+    The largest of her upright leaves;
+  And thus, for purposes benign,
+    A simple flower deceives.
+
+  Concealed from friends who might disturb
+    Thy quiet with no ill intent,
+  Secure from evil eyes and hands
+    On barbarous plunder bent,
+
+  Rest, mother bird! and when thy young
+    Take flight, and thou art free to roam,
+  When withered is the guardian flower,
+    And empty thy late home,
+
+  Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,
+    Amid the unviolated grove,
+  Housed near the growing primrose tuft
+    In foresight, or in love.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES.
+
+
+  'Twas on a lofty vase's side
+  Where China's gayest art had dyed
+  The azure flowers that blow,
+  Demurest of the tabby kind,
+  The pensive Selima, reclined,
+  Gazed on the lake below.
+
+  Her conscious tail her joy declared:
+  The fair, round face, the snowy beard,
+  The velvet of her paws,
+  Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
+  Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,--
+  She saw, and purred applause.
+
+  Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide
+  Two angel forms were seen to glide,
+  The Genii of the stream:
+  Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue,
+  Through richest purple, to the view
+  Betrayed a golden gleam.
+
+  The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
+  A whisker first, and then a claw,
+  With many an ardent wish,
+  She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize,--
+  What female heart can gold despise?
+  What cat's averse to fish?
+
+  Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,
+  Again she stretched, again she bent,
+  Nor knew the gulf between,--
+  Malignant Fate sat by and smiled,--
+  The slippery verge her feet beguiled;
+  She tumbled headlong in!
+
+  Eight times emerging from the flood,
+  She mewed to every watery god
+  Some speedy aid to send:
+  No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred,
+  Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard,--
+  A favorite has no friend!
+
+  From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived,
+  Know one false step is ne'er retrieved,
+  And be with caution bold:
+  Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
+  And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
+  Nor all that glitters gold!
+
+                                                          THOMAS GRAY.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLITARY REAPER.
+
+
+  Behold her, single in the field,
+  Yon solitary Highland Lass!
+  Reaping and singing by herself;
+  Stop here, or gently pass!
+  Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
+  And sings a melancholy strain;
+  O listen! for the vale profound
+  Is overflowing with the sound.
+
+  No nightingale did ever chaunt
+  More welcome notes to weary bands
+  Of travelers in some shady haunt,
+  Among Arabian sands;
+  A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard,
+  In springtime from the cuckoo bird,
+  Breaking the silence of the seas
+  Among the farthest Hebrides.
+
+  Will no one tell me what she sings?--
+  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+  For old, unhappy, far-off things,
+  And battles long ago:
+  Or is it some more humble lay,
+  Familiar matter of to-day?
+  Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
+  That has been, and may be again?
+
+  Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
+  As if her song could have no ending;
+  I saw her singing at her work,
+  And o'er the sickle bending;--
+  I listened, motionless and still;
+  And, as I mounted up the hill,
+  The music in my heart I bore,
+  Long after it was heard no more.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+CORONACH.
+
+
+  He is gone on the mountain,
+    He is lost to the forest,
+  Like a summer-dried fountain,
+    When our need was the sorest.
+  The fount reappearing
+    From the raindrops shall borrow;
+  But to us comes no cheering,
+    To Duncan no morrow!
+
+  The hand of the reaper
+    Takes the ears that are hoary,
+  But the voice of the weeper
+    Wails manhood in glory.
+  The autumn winds, rushing,
+    Waft the leaves that are searest,
+  But our flower was in flushing
+    When blighting was nearest.
+
+  Fleet foot on the correi,
+    Sage counsel in cumber,
+  Red hand in the foray,
+    How sound is thy slumber!
+  Like the dew on the mountain,
+    Like the foam on the river,
+  Like the bubble on the fountain,
+    Thou art gone, and forever.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING."
+
+
+  Life! we have been long together,
+  Through pleasant and through cloudy weather.
+  'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
+  Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
+  Then steal away, give little warning,
+  Choose thine own time;
+  Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter clime
+  Bid me "Good-morning."
+
+                                                ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.
+
+
+
+
+MOONRISE.
+
+
+    The moon is up, and yet it is not night--
+    Sunset divides the sky with her--a sea
+    Of glory streams along the Alpine height
+    Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free
+    From clouds, but of all colors seems to be--
+    Melted to one vast Iris of the West,
+    Where the Day joins the past Eternity;
+    While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
+  Floats through the azure air--an island of the blest.
+
+    A single star is at her side, and reigns
+    With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still
+    Yon sunny lea heaves brightly, and remains
+    Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rh�tian hill,
+    As Day and Night contending were, until
+    Nature reclaim'd her order:--gently flows
+    The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instill
+    The odorous purple of a new-born rose,
+  Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+TO A WATERFOWL.
+
+
+      Whither, midst falling dew,
+  While glow the heavens with the last steps of day
+  Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
+      Thy solitary way?
+
+      Vainly the fowler's eye
+  Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
+  As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
+      Thy figure floats along.
+
+      Seek'st thou the plashy brink
+  Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
+  Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
+      On the chafed ocean side?
+
+      There is a Power whose care
+  Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,--
+  The desert and illimitable air,--
+      Lone wandering, but not lost.
+
+      All day thy wings have fanned,
+  At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;
+  Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
+      Though the dark night is near.
+
+      And soon that toil shall end;
+  Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
+  And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
+      Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.
+
+      Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven
+  Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
+  Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
+      And shall not soon depart.
+
+      He who, from zone to zone,
+  Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
+  In the long way that I must tread alone,
+      Will lead my steps aright.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN.
+
+
+  Jerusalem, the golden!
+    With milk and honey blest;
+  Beneath thy contemplation
+    Sink heart and voice opprest.
+  I know not, O I know not
+    What joys await us there;
+  What radiancy of glory,
+    What bliss beyond compare.
+
+  They stand, those halls of Zion,
+    All jubilant with song,
+  And bright with many an angel,
+    And all the martyr throng.
+  The Prince is ever in them,
+    The daylight is serene;
+  The pastures of the bless�d
+    Are decked in glorious sheen.
+
+  There is the throne of David;
+    And there, from care released,
+  The shout of them that triumph,
+    The song of them that feast.
+  And they, who with their Leader,
+    Have conquered in the fight,
+  Forever and forever
+    Are clad in robes of white.
+
+                            ST. BERNARD (translated by John M. Neale).
+
+
+
+
+O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM.
+
+
+  O Mother dear, Jerusalem!
+    When shall I come to thee?
+  When shall my sorrows have an end?
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+
+  O happy harbor of God's saints!
+    O sweet and pleasant soil!
+  In thee no sorrow can be found,
+    Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.
+
+  No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
+    Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
+  But every soul shines as the sun;
+    For God Himself gives light.
+
+  O my sweet home, Jerusalem!
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+  The King that sitteth on thy throne
+    In His felicity?
+
+  Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
+    Continually are green,
+  Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
+    As nowhere else are seen.
+
+  Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound
+    The living waters flow,
+  And on the banks, on either side,
+    The trees of life do grow.
+
+  Those trees each month yield ripened fruit;
+    For evermore they spring,
+  And all the nations of the earth
+    To thee their honors bring.
+
+  O Mother dear, Jerusalem!
+    When shall I come to thee?
+  When shall my sorrows have an end?
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+
+                                                            ANONYMOUS.
+
+
+
+
+EVENING.
+
+
+  Abide with me from morn till eve,
+  For without Thee I cannot live:
+  Abide with me when night is nigh,
+  For without Thee I dare not die.
+
+  Thou Framer of the light and dark,
+  Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:
+  Amid the howling wintry sea
+  We are in port if we have Thee.
+
+  If some poor wandering child of Thine
+  Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,
+  Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
+  Let him no more lie down in sin.
+
+  Watch by the sick: enrich the poor
+  With blessings from Thy boundless store:
+  Be every mourner's sleep to-night
+  Like infants' slumbers, pure and light.
+
+  Come near and bless us when we wake,
+  Ere through the world our way we take;
+  Till in the ocean of Thy love
+  We lose ourselves in Heaven above.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEBLE.
+
+
+
+
+GOOD-NIGHT.
+
+
+  Close now thine eyes, and rest secure;
+      Thy soul is safe enough; thy body sure;
+      He that loves thee, He that keeps
+  And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.
+  The smiling Conscience in a sleeping breast
+      Has only peace, has only rest:
+      The music and the mirth of kings
+  Are all but very discords, when she sings:
+      Then close thine eyes and rest secure;
+  No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.
+
+                                                      FRANCIS QUARLES.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEWDROP.
+
+
+  A dewdrop, falling on the ocean wave,
+  Exclaimed, in fear, "I perish in this grave!"
+  But, in a shell received, that drop of dew
+  Unto a pearl of marvelous beauty grew;
+  And, happy now, the grace did magnify
+  Which thrust it forth--as it had feared--to die;
+  Until again, "I perish quite!" it said
+  Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed:
+  O, unbelieving!--So it came to gleam
+  Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem.
+
+                                                    RICHARD C. TRENCH.
+
+
+
+
+VIRTUE.
+
+
+  Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright--
+  The bridal of the earth and sky;
+  The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
+      For thou must die.
+
+  Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
+  Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
+  Thy root is ever in its grave,
+      And thou must die.
+
+  Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
+  A box where sweets compacted lie,
+  My music shows ye have your closes,
+      And all must die.
+
+  Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
+  Like seasoned timber, never gives;
+  But though the whole world turns to coal,
+      Then chiefly lives.
+
+                                                       GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERITAGE.
+
+
+  The rich man's son inherits lands,
+    And piles of brick, and stone, and gold,
+  And he inherits soft white hands,
+    And tender flesh that fears the cold,
+    Nor dares to wear a garment old;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  The rich man's son inherits cares;
+    The bank may break, the factory burn,
+  A breath may burst his bubble shares,
+    And soft white hands could hardly earn
+    A living that would serve his turn;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  The rich man's son inherits wants,
+    His stomach craves for dainty fare;
+  With sated heart, he hears the pants
+    Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare,
+    And wearies in his easy-chair;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    Stout muscles and a sinewy heart,
+  A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
+    King of two hands, he does his part
+    In every useful toil and art;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things,
+  A rank adjudged by toil-won merit,
+    Content that from employment springs,
+    A heart that in his labor sings;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    A patience learned of being poor,
+  Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,
+    A fellow-feeling that is sure
+    To make the outcast bless his door;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  O rich man's son! there is a toil
+    That with all others level stands;
+  Large charity doth never soil,
+    But only whiten, soft white hands,--
+    This is the best crop from thy lands;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Worth being rich to hold in fee.
+
+  O poor man's son! scorn not thy state;
+    There is worse weariness than thine,
+  In merely being rich and great;
+    Toil only gives the soul to shine,
+    And makes rest fragrant and benign;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Worth being poor to hold in fee.
+
+  Both, heirs to some six feet of sod,
+    Are equal in the earth at last;
+  Both, children of the same dear God,
+    Prove title to your heirship vast
+    By record of a well-filled past;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Well worth a life to hold in fee.
+
+                                                 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN.
+
+
+  A perilous life, and sad as life may be,
+  Hath the lone fisher, on the lonely sea,
+  O'er the wild waters laboring far from home,
+  For some bleak pittance e'er compelled to roam:
+  Few hearts to cheer him through his dangerous life,
+  And none to aid him in the stormy strife:
+  Companion of the sea and silent air,
+  The lonely fisher thus must ever fare:
+  Without the comfort, hope,--with scarce a friend,
+  He looks through life and only sees its end!
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+  A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
+    Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
+  And I'll give thee a silver pound,
+    To row us o'er the ferry."
+
+  "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
+    This dark and stormy water?"
+  "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
+    And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
+
+  "And fast before her father's men
+    Three days we've fled together,
+  For should he find us in the glen,
+    My blood would stain the heather.
+
+  "His horsemen hard behind us ride;
+    Should they our steps discover,
+  Then who will cheer my bonny bride
+    When they have slain her lover?"
+
+  Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
+    "I'll go, my chief--I'm ready:
+  It is not for your silver bright;
+    But for your winsome lady:
+
+  "And by my word! the bonny bird
+    In danger shall not tarry:
+  So though the waves are raging white,
+    I'll row you o'er the ferry."
+
+  By this the storm grew loud apace,
+    The water wraith was shrieking;
+  And in the scowl of heaven each face
+    Grew dark as they were speaking.
+
+  But still as wilder blew the wind,
+    And as the night grew drearer,
+  Adown the glen rode arm�d men,
+    Their trampling sounded nearer.
+
+  "Oh haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
+    "Though tempests round us gather;
+  I'll meet the raging of the skies,
+    But not an angry father."
+
+  The boat has left a stormy land,
+    A stormy sea before her,--
+  When, Oh! too strong for human hand,
+    The tempest gathered o'er her.
+
+  And still they rowed amidst the roar
+    Of waters fast prevailing:
+  Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
+    His wrath was changed to wailing.
+
+  For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
+    His child he did discover:
+  One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
+    And one was round her lover.
+
+  "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
+    "Across this stormy water:
+  And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
+    My daughter!--oh my daughter!"
+
+  'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
+    Return or aid preventing:
+  The waters wild went o'er his child,
+    And he was left lamenting.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.
+
+
+  "Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
+    Why weep ye by the tide?
+  I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
+    And ye sall be his bride:
+  And ye sall be his bride, ladie,
+    Sae comely to be seen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  "Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
+    And dry that cheek so pale;
+  Young Frank is chief of Errington,
+    And lord of Langley-dale;
+  His step is first in peaceful ha',
+    His sword in battle keen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  "A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
+    Nor braid to bind your hair;
+  Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
+    Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
+  And you, the foremost o' them a',
+    Shall ride our forest queen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  The kirk was decked at morningtide,
+    The tapers glimmered fair;
+  The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
+    And dame and knight are there.
+  They sought her baith by bower and ha',
+    The ladie was not seen!
+  She's o'er the Border, and awa'
+    Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+EXILE OF ERIN.
+
+
+  There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
+    The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
+  For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing
+    To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:
+  But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
+  For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
+  Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,
+    He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.
+
+  Sad is my fate! said the heartbroken stranger;
+    The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,
+  But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
+    A home and a country remain not to me.
+  Never again, in the green sunny bowers,
+  Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,
+  Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,
+    And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!
+
+  Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,
+    In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
+  But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
+    And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
+  Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me
+  In a mansion of peace--where no perils can chase me?
+  Never again shall my brothers embrace me?
+    They died to defend me or live to deplore!
+
+  Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?
+    Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall?
+  Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
+    And where is the bosom friend clearer than all?
+  Oh! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure,
+  Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure?
+  Tears, like the raindrop, may fall without measure,
+    But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.
+
+  Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,
+    One dying wish my lone bosom can draw;
+  Erin! an exile bequeathes thee his blessing!
+    Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!
+  Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,
+  Green be thy field,--sweetest isle of the ocean!
+  And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,--
+    Erin mavournin--Erin go bragh!
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+  The heath this night must be my bed,
+  The bracken curtain for my head,
+  My lullaby the warder's tread,
+    Far, far from love and thee, Mary;
+  To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
+  My couch may be my bloody plaid,
+  My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid!
+    It will not waken me, Mary!
+
+  I may not, dare not, fancy now
+  The grief that clouds thy lovely brow;
+  I dare not think upon thy vow,
+    And all it promised me, Mary.
+  No fond regret must Norman know;
+  When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,
+  His heart must be like bended bow,
+    His foot like arrow free, Mary.
+
+  A time will come with feeling fraught!
+  For, if I fall in battle fought,
+  Thy hapless lover's dying thought
+    Shall be a thought on thee, Mary:
+  And if returned from conquered foes,
+  How blithely will the evening close,
+  How sweet the linnet sing repose
+    To my young bride and me, Mary.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+_From "The Lady of The Lake."_
+
+
+
+
+THE BANKS O' DOON.
+
+(SECOND VERSION.)
+
+
+  Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
+    How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
+  How can ye chant, ye little birds,
+    And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
+  Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
+    That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
+  Thou minds me o' departed joys,
+    Departed--never to return!
+
+  Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
+    To see the rose and woodbine twine;
+  And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
+    And fondly sae did I o' mine.
+  Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
+    Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
+  And my fause lover stole my rose,
+    But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LADY CLARE.
+
+
+  It was the time when lilies blow,
+    And clouds are highest up in air,
+  Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
+    To give his cousin, Lady Clare.
+
+  I trow they did not part in scorn:
+    Lovers long betrothed were they:
+  They two will wed the morrow morn:
+    God's blessing on the day!
+
+  "He does not love me for my birth,
+    Nor for my lands so broad and fair;
+  He loves me for my own true worth,
+    And that is well," said Lady Clare.
+
+  In there came old Alice the nurse,
+    Said, "Who was this that went from thee?"
+  "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,
+    "To-morrow he weds with me."
+
+  "O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse,
+    "That all comes round so just and fair:
+  Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,
+    And you are not the Lady Clare."
+
+  "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?"
+    Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?"
+  "As God is above," said Alice the nurse,
+    "I speak the truth: you are my child.
+
+  "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;
+    I speak the truth, as I live by bread!
+  I buried her like my own sweet child,
+    And put my child in her stead."
+
+  "Falsely, falsely have ye done,
+    O mother," she said, "if this be true,
+  To keep the best man under the sun
+    So many years from his due."
+
+  "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
+    "But keep the secret for your life,
+  And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
+    When you are man and wife."
+
+  "If I'm a beggar born," she said,
+    "I will speak out, for I dare not lie.
+  Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold,
+    And fling the diamond necklace by."
+
+  "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
+    "But keep the secret all ye can."
+  She said, "Not so: but I will know
+    If there be any faith in man."
+
+  "Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse,
+    "The man will cleave unto his right."
+  "And he shall have it," the lady replied,
+    "Tho' I should die to-night."
+
+  "Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!
+    Alas, my child, I sinned for thee."
+  "O mother, mother, mother," she said,
+    "So strange it seems to me.
+
+  "Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,
+    My mother dear, if this be so,
+  And lay your hand upon my head,
+    And bless me, mother, ere I go."
+
+  She clad herself in a russet gown,
+    She was no longer Lady Clare:
+  She went by dale, and she went by town,
+    With a single rose in her hair.
+
+  The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought
+    Leapt up from where she lay,
+  Dropt her head in the maiden's hand,
+    And followed her all the way.
+
+  Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:
+    "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!
+  Why come you drest like a village maid,
+    That are the flower of the earth?"
+
+  "If I come drest like a village maid,
+    I am but as my fortunes are:
+  I am a beggar born," she said,
+    "And not the Lady Clare."
+
+  "Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
+    "For I am yours in word and deed.
+  Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
+    "Your riddle is hard to read."
+
+  O and proudly stood she up!
+    Her heart within her did not fail:
+  She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes,
+    And told him all her nurse's tale.
+
+  He laughed a laugh of merry scorn:
+    He turned and kissed her where she stood:
+  "If you are not the heiress born,
+    And I," said he, "the next in blood--
+
+  "If you are not the heiress born,
+    And I," said he, "the lawful heir,
+  We two will wed to-morrow morn,
+    And you shall still be Lady Clare."
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+BELSHAZZAR.
+
+
+  Belshazzar is king! Belshazzar is lord!
+  And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board:
+  Fruits glisten, flowers blossom, meats steam, and a flood
+  Of the wine that man loveth, runs redder than blood;
+  Wild dancers are there, and a riot of mirth,
+  And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth;
+          And the crowds all shout,
+          Till the vast roofs ring,--
+  "All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
+
+  "Bring forth," cries the Monarch, "the vessels of gold,
+  Which my father tore down from the temples of old;--
+  Bring forth, and we'll drink, while the trumpets are blown,
+  To the gods of bright silver, of gold, and of stone;
+  Bring forth!" and before him the vessels all shine,
+  And he bows unto Baal, and drinks the dark wine;
+          Whilst the trumpets bray,
+          And the cymbals ring,--
+  "Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
+
+  Now what cometh--look, look!--without menace, or call?
+  Who writes, with the lightning's bright hand, on the wall?
+  What pierceth the king like the point of a dart?
+  What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?
+  "Chaldeans! Magicians! the letters expound!"
+  They are read--and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!
+          Hark!--the Persian is come
+          On a conqueror's wing;
+  And a Mede's on the throne of Belshazzar the king.
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+[Illustration: BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST.
+
+J. MARTIN.]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW.
+
+AN INCIDENT OF THE SEPOY MUTINY.
+
+
+  Pipes of the misty moorlands,
+    Voice of the glens and hills;
+  The droning of the torrents,
+    The treble of the rills!
+  Not the braes of broom and heather,
+    Nor the mountains dark with rain,
+  Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,
+    Have heard your sweetest strain!
+
+  Dear to the Lowland reaper,
+    And plaided mountaineer,--
+  To the cottage and the castle
+    The Scottish pipes are dear;--
+  Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch
+    O'er mountain, loch, and glade;
+  But the sweetest of all music
+    The pipes at Lucknow played.
+
+  Day by day the Indian tiger
+    Louder yelled, and nearer crept;
+  Round and round, the jungle serpent
+    Near and nearer circles swept.
+  "Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,--
+    Pray to-day!" the soldier said,
+  "To-morrow, death's between us
+    And the wrong and shame we dread,"
+
+  Oh, they listened, looked, and waited,
+    Till their hope became despair;
+  And the sobs of low bewailing
+    Filled the pauses of their prayer.
+  Then up spake a Scottish maiden,
+    With her ear unto the ground:
+  "Dinna ye hear it?--dinna ye hear it?
+    The pipes o' Havelock sound!"
+
+  Hushed the wounded man his groaning;
+    Hushed the wife her little ones;
+  Alone they heard the drum-roll
+    And the roar of Sepoy guns.
+  But to sounds of home and childhood
+    The Highland ear was true;--
+  As her mother's cradle crooning
+    The mountain pipes she knew.
+
+  Like the march of soundless music
+    Through the vision of the seer,
+  More of feeling than of hearing,
+    Of the heart than of the ear,
+  She knew the droning pibroch,
+    She knew the Campbell's call:
+  "Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's,
+    The grandest o' them all!"
+
+  Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless,
+    And they caught the sound at last;
+  Faint and far beyond the Goomtee
+    Rose and fell the piper's blast!
+  Then a burst of wild thanksgiving
+    Mingled woman's voice and man's;
+  "God be praised!--the march of Havelock!
+    The piping of the clans!"
+
+  Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,
+    Sharp and shrill as swords at strife,
+  Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call,
+    Stinging all the air to life.
+  But when the far-off dust cloud
+    To plaided legions grew,
+  Full tenderly and blithesomely
+    The pipes of rescue blew!
+
+  Round the silver domes of Lucknow,
+    Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine,
+  Breathed the air to Britons dearest,
+    The air of Auld Lang Syne.
+  O'er the cruel roll of war drums
+    Rose that sweet and homelike strain;
+  And the tartan clove the turban,
+    As the Goomtee cleaves the plain.
+
+  Dear to the corn-land reaper
+    And plaided mountaineer,--
+  To the cottage and the castle
+    The piper's song is dear.
+  Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch
+    O'er mountain, glen, and glade;
+  But the sweetest of all music
+    The pipes at Lucknow played!
+
+                                              JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
+
+[Illustration: THE RESIDENCY, LUCKNOW, INDIA.]
+
+
+
+
+COMPANIONSHIP WITH NATURE.
+
+
+    Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;
+    Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home;
+    Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,
+    He had the passion and the power to roam;
+    The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam,
+    Were unto him companionship; they spake
+    A mutual language, clearer than the tome
+    Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake
+  For Nature's pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+THE GLADIATOR.
+
+
+    I see before me the Gladiator lie:
+    He leans upon his hand--his manly brow
+    Consents to death, but conquers agony,
+    And his drooped head sinks gradually low--
+    And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
+    From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
+    Like the first of a thunder shower; and now
+    The arena swims around him--he is gone,
+  Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
+
+    He heard it, but he heeded not--his eyes
+    Were with his heart, and that was far away;
+    He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,
+    But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
+    There were his young barbarians all at play,
+    There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
+    Butchered to make a Roman holiday--
+    All this rushed with his blood--Shall he expire,
+  And unavenged?--Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX."
+
+
+  I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
+  I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
+  "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew;
+  "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
+  Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
+  And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
+
+  Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
+  Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
+  I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
+  Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
+  Rebuckled the cheek strap, chained slacker the bit,
+  Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
+
+  'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
+  Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
+  At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
+  At D�ffield, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
+  And from Mecheln church steeple we heard half the chime,
+  So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
+
+  At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
+  And against him the cattle stood black every one,
+  To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,
+  And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
+  With resolute shoulders, each butting away
+  The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
+
+  And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
+  For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
+  And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance
+  O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
+  And the thick heavy spume flakes which aye and anon
+  His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
+
+  By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
+  Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
+  We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze
+  Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
+  And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
+  As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
+
+  So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
+  Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
+  The broad sun above laughs a pitiless laugh,
+  'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
+  Till over by Dalhem a dome spire sprang white,
+  And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight.
+
+  "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan
+  Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
+  And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
+  Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
+  With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
+  And with circles of red for his eye sockets' rim.
+
+  Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall,
+  Shook off both my jack boots, let go belt and all,
+  Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
+  Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;
+  Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good
+  Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
+
+  And all I remember is, friends flocking round
+  As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
+  And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
+  As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
+  Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
+  Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+SANDALPHON.
+
+
+  Have you read in the Talmud of old,
+  In the Legends the Rabbins have told
+    Of the limitless realms of the air,
+  Have you read it,--the marvelous story
+  Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,
+    Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?
+
+  How, erect, at the outermost gates
+  Of the City Celestial he waits,
+    With his feet on the ladder of light,
+  That, crowded with angels unnumbered,
+  By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered
+    Alone in the desert at night?
+
+  The Angels of Wind and of Fire
+  Chant only one hymn, and expire
+    With the song's irresistible stress;
+  Expire in their rapture and wonder,
+  As harp strings are broken asunder
+    By music they throb to express.
+
+  But serene in the rapturous throng,
+  Unmoved by the rush of the song,
+    With eyes unimpassioned and slow,
+  Among the dead angels, the deathless
+  Sandalphon stands listening breathless
+    To sounds that ascend from below;--
+
+  From the spirits on earth that adore,
+  From the souls that entreat and implore
+    In the fervor and passion of prayer;
+  From the hearts that are broken with losses,
+  And weary with dragging the crosses
+    Too heavy for mortals to bear.
+
+  And he gathers the prayers as he stands,
+  And they change into flowers in his hands,
+    Into garlands of purple and red;
+  And beneath the great arch of the portal,
+  Through the streets of the City Immortal
+    Is wafted the fragrance they shed.
+
+  It is but a legend, I know,--
+  A fable, a phantom, a show,
+    Of the ancient Rabbinical lore;
+  Yet the old medi�val tradition,
+  The beautiful, strange superstition,
+    But haunts me and holds me the more.
+
+  When I look from my window at night,
+  And the welkin above is all white,
+    All throbbing and panting with stars,
+  Among them majestic is standing
+  Sandalphon, the angel, expanding
+    His pinions in nebulous bars.
+
+  And the legend, I feel, is a part
+  Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,
+    The frenzy and fire of the brain,
+  That grasps at the fruitage forbidden,
+  The golden pomegranates of Eden,
+    To quiet its fever and pain.
+
+                                           HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: JOHN MILTON.]
+
+HYMN.
+
+ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+
+  It was the winter wild
+  While the heaven-born child
+  All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies;
+  Nature in awe to him
+  Has doffed her gaudy trim,
+  With her great Master so to sympathize:
+
+  No war, or battle's sound
+  Was heard the world around;
+  The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+  The hook�d chariot stood
+  Unstained with hostile blood;
+  The trumpet spake not to the arm�d throng;
+  And kings sat still with awful eye,
+  As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+  But peaceful was the night
+  Wherein the Prince of Light
+  His reign of peace upon the earth began;
+  The winds with wonder whist,
+  Smoothly the waters kissed
+  Whispering new joys to the mild ocean--
+  Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+  While birds of calm sit brooding on the charm�d wave.
+
+  The stars with deep amaze,
+  Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,
+  Bending one way their precious influence;
+  And will not take their flight
+  For all the morning light,
+  Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;
+  But in their glimmering orbs did glow
+  Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+  Yea, Truth and Justice then
+  Will down return to men,
+  Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+  Mercy will sit between
+  Throned in celestial sheen,
+  With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering
+  And Heaven, as at some festival
+  Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
+
+[Illustration: HOLY NIGHT.
+
+H. GRASS.]
+
+  But wisest Fate says no;
+  This must not yet be so;
+  The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy
+  That on the bitter cross
+  Must redeem our loss;
+  So both himself and us to glorify;
+  Yet first, to those ychained in sleep,
+  The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+  But see, the Virgin blest
+  Hath laid her Babe to rest;
+  Time is, our tedious song should here have ending;
+  Heaven's youngest-teem�d star
+  Hath fixed her polished car,
+  Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending:
+  And all about the courtly stable
+  Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable.
+
+                                                          JOHN MILTON.
+
+_A Selection._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE NEW YEAR.
+
+
+  Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
+    The flying cloud, the frosty light:
+    The year is dying in the night;
+  Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
+
+  Ring out the old, ring in the new,
+    Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
+    The year is going, let him go;
+  Ring out the false, ring in the true.
+
+  Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
+    For those that here we see no more;
+    Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
+  Ring in redress to all mankind.
+
+  Ring out a slowly dying cause,
+    And ancient forms of party strife;
+    Ring in the nobler modes of life,
+  With sweeter manners, purer laws.
+
+  Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
+    The faithless coldness of the times;
+    Ring out, ring out, my mournful rhymes,
+  But ring the fuller minstrel in.
+
+  Ring out false pride in place and blood,
+    The civic slander and the spite;
+    Ring in the love of truth and right,
+  Ring in the common love of good.
+
+  Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
+    Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
+    Ring out the thousand wars of old,
+  Ring in the thousand years of peace.
+
+  Ring in the valiant man and free,
+    The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
+    Ring out the darkness of the land,
+  Ring in the Christ that is to be.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_RECOMMENDED POEMS._
+
+
+As it has been impossible to include in this collection as many poems by
+American authors as we desired, we recommend the following, all of which
+are published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., with the exception of Bryant's
+poems, which are published by D. Appleton & Co.
+
+  ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY.
+    After the Rain.
+    Barberries.
+    Before the Rain.
+    The Bluebells of New England.
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.
+    A Northern Legend.
+    The Gladness of Nature.
+
+  CARY, ALICE.
+    The Gray Swan.
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO.
+    The Humblebee.
+
+  HARTE, BRET.
+    The Reveill�.
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL.
+    A Sunday Hymn.
+    Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill.
+    The Chambered Nautilus.
+    The Height of the Ridiculous.
+    The Music Grinders.
+    The One Hoss Shay.
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH.
+    A Psalm of Life.
+    Burial of the Minnisink.
+    Christmas Bells.
+    Enceladus.
+    Paul Revere's Ride.
+    Santa Filomena.
+    Snowflakes.
+    Song of the Silent Land.
+    The Bell of Atri.
+    The Builders.
+    The Day is Done.
+    The Old Clock on the Stairs.
+    The Open Window.
+    The Ropewalk.
+    The Two Angels.
+    Victor Galbraith.
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL.
+    Stanzas on Freedom.
+    The Fatherland.
+    The Shepherd of King Admetus.
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF.
+    Abraham Davenport.
+    Laus Deus.
+    My Psalm.
+    Nanhaught, the Deacon.
+    The Corn Song.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF SONG, BOOK II ***
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+    <title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of Song, Book II
+       For lower grammar grades
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Larkin Dunton
+
+Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38880]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF SONG, BOOK II ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="525" height="800" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE LAND OF SONG</h1>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Book II.</span></h2>
+
+<h3><i>FOR LOWER GRAMMAR GRADES</i></h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h5>SELECTED BY</h5>
+
+<h3>KATHARINE H. SHUTE</h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h5>EDITED BY</h5>
+
+<h3>LARKIN DUNTON, LL.D.</h3>
+
+<h5>HEAD MASTER OF THE BOSTON NORMAL SCHOOL</h5>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 160px;">
+<img src="images/illus001.png" width="160" height="156" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>SILVER, BURDETT &amp; COMPANY</h3>
+
+<h5><span class="smcap">New York  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;  &nbsp;   BOSTON  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;     Chicago</span></h5>
+
+<h4>1899</h4>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1899,<br />
+By Silver, Burdett &amp; Company.</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h5>BOSTON:<br />
+C. J. PETERS &amp; SON, TYPOGRAPHERS.<br />
+<big>Plimpton Press</big><br />
+H. M. PLIMPTON &amp; CO., PRINTERS &amp; BINDERS,<br />
+NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A.</h5>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>COMPILERS' PREFACE.</i></h2>
+
+
+<p>The inestimable value of literature in supplying healthful
+recreation, in opening the mind to larger views of life, and in
+creating ideals that shall mold the spiritual nature, is conceded
+now by every one who has intelligently considered the problems
+of education. But the basis upon which literature shall be
+selected and arranged is still a matter of discussion.</p>
+
+<p>Chronology, race-correspondence, correlation, and ethical
+training should all be recognized incidentally; but the main
+purpose of the teacher of literature is to send children on into
+life with a genuine love for good reading. To accomplish this,
+three things should be true of the reading offered: first, it
+should be <i>literature</i>; second, it should be literature of some
+scope, not merely some small phase of literature, such as the
+fables or the poetry of one of the less eminent poets; and third,
+it should appeal to children's natural interests. Children's interests,
+varied as they seem, center in the marvelous and the
+preternatural; in the natural world; and in human life, especially
+child life and the romantic and heroic aspects of mature
+life. In the selections made for each grade, we have recognized
+these different interests.</p>
+
+<p>To grade poetry perfectly for different ages is an impossibility;
+much of the greatest verse is for all ages&mdash;that is one
+reason why it <i>is</i> great. A child of five will lisp the numbers of
+Horatius with delight; and Scott's <i>Lullaby of an Infant Chief</i>,
+with its romantic color and its exquisite human tenderness, is
+dear to childhood, to manhood, and to old age. But the Land
+of Song is a great undiscovered country to the little child; by
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>some road or other he must find his way into it; and these volumes
+simply attempt to point out a path through which he may
+be led into its happy fields.</p>
+
+<p>Our earnest thanks are due to the following publishers for
+permission to use copyrighted poems: to Houghton, Mifflin &amp;
+Co. for poems by Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Holmes,
+Lowell, Aldrich, Bayard Taylor, James T. Fields, Ph&#339;be Cary,
+Lucy Larcom, Celia Thaxter, and Sarah Orne Jewett; to D.
+Appleton &amp; Co. for a large number of Bryant's poems; to
+Charles Scribner's Sons for two poems by Stevenson, from
+<i>Underwoods</i>, and <i>A Child's Garden of Verse</i>; to J. B. Lippincott
+&amp; Co. for two poems by Thomas Buchanan Read; and to
+Henry T. Coates &amp; Co. for a poem by Charles Fenno Hoffman.</p>
+
+<p>The present volume is intended for the fourth, fifth, and sixth
+school years, or lower grammar grades. It is the second of
+three books prepared for use in the grades below the high
+school. As no collection of this size can supply as much poetry
+as may be used to advantage, and as many desirable poems by
+American writers have necessarily been omitted, we have noted
+at the end of this volume lists of poems which it would be well
+to add to the material given here, that our children may realize
+the scope and beauty of the poetry of their own land.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+<div class="backleft1" style="background-image: url(images/illus005.jpg);  height: 311px;" >
+<p class="ft20"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><b>ONTENTS</b></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ALICE_BRAND"><span class="smcap">Alice Brand</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AT_SEA"><span class="smcap">At Sea</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BANKS_O_DOON"><span class="smcap">Banks o' Doon, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BATTLE_OF_BLENHEIM"><span class="smcap">Battle of Blenheim, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC"><span class="smcap">Battle of the Baltic, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BELEAGUERED_CITY"><span class="smcap">Beleaguered City, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BELSHAZZAR"><span class="smcap">Belshazzar</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BOY_AND_THE_ANGEL"><span class="smcap">Boy and the Angel, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BRIGHTEST_AND_BEST_OF_THE_SONS_OF"><span class="smcap">Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BURIAL_OF_SIR_JOHN_MOORE"><span class="smcap">Burial of Sir John Moore</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BY_COOL_SILOAMS_SHADY_RILL"><span class="smcap">By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CALM_ON_THE_LISTENING_EAR_OF_NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Calm on the Listening Ear of Night</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CA_THE_YOWES"><span class="smcap">Ca' the Yowes</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_LIGHT_BRIGADE"><span class="smcap">Charge of the Light Brigade, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHILDREN_IN_THE_WOOD"><span class="smcap">Children in the Wood, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHORAL_SONG_OF_ILLYRIAN_PEASANTS"><span class="smcap">Choral Song of Illyrian Peasants</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#COMPANIONSHIP_WITH_NATURE"><span class="smcap">Companionship with Nature</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CONCORD_HYMN"><span class="smcap">Concord Hymn</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CORAL_GROVE"><span class="smcap">Coral Grove, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_COUNCIL_OF_HORSES"><span class="smcap">Council of Horses, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CORONACH"><span class="smcap">Coronach</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CRICKET"><span class="smcap">Cricket, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DAFFODILS"><span class="smcap">Daffodils</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DAFFODILS"><span class="smcap">Daffodils, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_NELSON"><span class="smcap">Death of Nelson, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB"><span class="smcap">Destruction of Sennacherib</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEWDROP"><span class="smcap">Dewdrop, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_ELIXIR"><span class="smcap">Elixir, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ENGLAND"><span class="smcap">England</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EPITAPH"><span class="smcap">Epitaph on a Hare</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EVENING"><span class="smcap">Evening</span> (John Fletcher)</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EVENING2"><span class="smcap">Evening</span> (John Keble)</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_EVENING_WIND"><span class="smcap">Evening Wind, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EXILE_OF_ERIN"><span class="smcap">Exile of Erin</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FAREWELL"><span class="smcap">Farewell, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FIDELITY"><span class="smcap">Fidelity</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_FINE_DAY"><span class="smcap">Fine Day, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_FISHERMAN"><span class="smcap">Fisherman, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FOR_A_THAT_AND_A_THAT"><span class="smcap">For A' That, and A' That</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#GLADIATOR"><span class="smcap">Gladiator, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#GOOD-NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Good-Night</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GRASSHOPPER"><span class="smcap">Grasshopper, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD"><span class="smcap">Graves of a Household, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_GREEN_CORNFIELD"><span class="smcap">Green Cornfield, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HALLOWED_GROUND"><span class="smcap">Hallowed Ground</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_HERITAGE"><span class="smcap">Heritage, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOHENLINDEN"><span class="smcap">Hohenlinden</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOLY_HOLY_HOLY"><span class="smcap">Holy, Holy, Holy</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD"><span class="smcap">Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_HONEY-BEE"><span class="smcap">Honey-Bee, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE"><span class="smcap">How Sleep the Brave</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOW_THEY_BROUGHT_THE_GOOD_NEWS"><span class="smcap">"How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix"</span></a> &nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HYMN2"><span class="smcap">Hymn of the Nativity</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HURRICANE"><span class="smcap">Hurricane, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_INCHCAPE_ROCK"><span class="smcap">Inchcape Rock, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP"><span class="smcap">Incident of the French Camp</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#INGRATITUDE"><span class="smcap">Ingratitude</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#JOCK_OF_HAZELDEAN"><span class="smcap">Jock of Hazeldean</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#JERUSALEM_THE_GOLDEN"><span class="smcap">Jerusalem, the Golden</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_KINGDOM_OF_GOD"><span class="smcap">Kingdom of God, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#KING_JOHN_AND_THE_ABBOT_OF"><span class="smcap">King John and the Abbot of Canterbury</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LADY_CLARE"><span class="smcap">Lady Clare</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LAMENT_OF_MARY_QUEEN_OF_SCOTS"><span class="smcap">Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFES_GOOD-MORNING"><span class="smcap">Life's "Good-Morning"</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LLEWELLYN_AND_HIS_DOG"><span class="smcap">Llewellyn and His Dog</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER"><span class="smcap">Lord Ullin's Daughter</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LOVE_OF_GOD"><span class="smcap">Love of God, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MARCH"><span class="smcap">March</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MONTEREY"><span class="smcap">Monterey</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MOONRISE"><span class="smcap">Moonrise, A Selection</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MORNING"><span class="smcap">Morning</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_HEART_LEAPS_UP_WHEN_I_BEHOLD"><span class="smcap">My Heart Leaps up when I Behold</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_NEW_YEAR"><span class="smcap">New Year, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Night</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_NOBLE_NATURE"><span class="smcap">Noble Nature, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_NORTHERN_SEAS"><span class="smcap">Northern Seas, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE"><span class="smcap">Ode to the North-east Wind</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OH_WEEP_FOR_THOSE"><span class="smcap">Oh! Weep for Those</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#O_MOTHER_DEAR_JERUSALEM"><span class="smcap">O Mother Dear, Jerusalem</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_FAVORITE_CAT"><span class="smcap">On a Favorite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_SPANIEL_CALLED_BEAU_KILLING"><span class="smcap">On a Spaniel Called "Beau" Killing a Young Bird</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER_AND_CRICKET"><span class="smcap">On the Grasshopper and Cricket</span> (Leigh Hunt)</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER"><span class="smcap">On the Grasshopper and Cricket</span> (John Keats)</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#O_WAD_SOME_POWER"><span class="smcap">O Wad Some Power</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PIBROCH_OF_DONUIL_DHU"><span class="smcap">Pibroch of Donuil Dhu</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PIED_PIPER_OF_HAMELIN"><span class="smcap">Pied Piper of Hamelin, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PILGRIM_FATHERS"><span class="smcap">Pilgrim Fathers, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PIPES_AT_LUCKNOW"><span class="smcap">Pipes at Lucknow, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PLANTING_OF_THE"><span class="smcap">Planting of the Apple Tree</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#QUIET_LORD_MY_FROWARD_HEART"><span class="smcap">Quiet, Lord, My Froward Heart</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#REBECCAS_HYMN"><span class="smcap">Rebecca's Hymn</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#REST"><span class="smcap">Rest</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_REVENGE"><span class="smcap">Revenge, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SELECTIONS_FROM_A_RHYMED_LESSON"><span class="smcap">Rhymed Lesson, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_ROYAL_GEORGE"><span class="smcap">Royal George, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#RUTH"><span class="smcap">Ruth</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SAILORS_WIFE"><span class="smcap">Sailor's Wife, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SANDALPHON"><span class="smcap">Sandalphon</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PILGRIMAGE"><span class="smcap">Selection from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SELKIRK_GRACE"><span class="smcap">Selkirk Grace, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SHEPHERDS_HOME"><span class="smcap">Shepherd's Home, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHERIDANS_RIDE"><span class="smcap">Sheridan's Ride</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SKYLARK"><span class="smcap">Skylark, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SOLDIER_AND_SAILOR"><span class="smcap">Soldier and Sailor</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM"><span class="smcap">Soldier's Dream, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SOLITARY_REAPER"><span class="smcap">Solitary Reaper, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG2"><span class="smcap">Song from the Lady of the Lake</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG_OF_MARIONS_MEN"><span class="smcap">Song of Marion's Men</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_GREEKS"><span class="smcap">Song of the Greeks</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SONG_OF_THE_SEA"><span class="smcap">Song of the Sea, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG"><span class="smcap">Song: "Orpheus with His Lute Made Trees"</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SOUND_THE_LOUD_TIMBREL"><span class="smcap">Sound the Loud Timbrel</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SPRING"><span class="smcap">Spring</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#STARS"><span class="smcap">Stars</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_STORM"><span class="smcap">Storm, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SUMMER_SHOWER"><span class="smcap">Summer Shower, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SWEET_PEAS"><span class="smcap">Sweet Peas</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THY_VOICE_IS_HEARD_THRO_ROLLING"><span class="smcap">Thy Voice is Heard Through Rolling Drums</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_A_MOUSE"><span class="smcap">To a Mouse</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_A_WATERFOWL"><span class="smcap">To a Waterfowl</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_DAFFODILS"><span class="smcap">To Daffodils</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THE_CUCKOO"><span class="smcap">To the Cuckoo</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THE_SMALL_CELANDINE"><span class="smcap">To the Small Celandine</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#UNION_AND_LIBERTY"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#UPON_THE_MOUNTAINS_DISTANT_HEAD"><span class="smcap">Upon The Mountain's Distant Head</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#VIRTUE"><span class="smcap">Virtue</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WHEN_ALL_THY_MERCIES_O_MY_GOD"><span class="smcap">When All Thy Mercies, O My God</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WHEN_WILT_THOU_SAVE_THE_PEOPLE"><span class="smcap">When Wilt Thou Save the People?</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WINSTANLEY"><span class="smcap">Winstanley</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WIVES_OF_BRIXHAM"><span class="smcap">Wives of Brixham, The</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_WRENS_NEST"><span class="smcap">Wren's Nest, A</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND"><span class="smcap">Ye Mariners of England</span></a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Index of Authors.</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Addison, Joseph.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#WHEN_ALL_THY_MERCIES_O_MY_GOD">When all thy Mercies, O my God</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Anonymous.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#O_MOTHER_DEAR_JERUSALEM">O Mother Dear, Jerusalem</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_CHILDREN_IN_THE_WOOD">The Children in the Wood</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_WIVES_OF_BRIXHAM">The Wives of Brixham</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Arnold.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_NELSON">The Death of Nelson</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Barbauld, Anna Letitia.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#LIFES_GOOD-MORNING">Life's "Good-Morning"</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Blake, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#NIGHT">Night</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Browning, Robert.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP">An Incident of the French Camp</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HOW_THEY_BROUGHT_THE_GOOD_NEWS">"How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix"</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BOY_AND_THE_ANGEL">The Boy and the Angel</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_PIED_PIPER_OF_HAMELIN">The Pied Piper of Hamelin</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Bryant, William Cullen.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#MARCH">March</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SONG_OF_MARIONS_MEN">Song of Marion's Men</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_EVENING_WIND">The Evening Wind</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HURRICANE">The Hurricane</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_LOVE_OF_GOD">The Love of God</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_PLANTING_OF_THE">The Planting of the Apple Tree</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#TO_A_WATERFOWL">To a Waterfowl</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#UPON_THE_MOUNTAINS_DISTANT_HEAD">Upon the Mountain's Distant Head</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Burns, Robert.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#CA_THE_YOWES">Ca' the Yowes</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#FOR_A_THAT_AND_A_THAT">For A' That, and A' That</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#LAMENT_OF_MARY_QUEEN_OF_SCOTS">Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#O_WAD_SOME_POWER">O wad some Power</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BANKS_O_DOON">The Banks o' Doon</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SELKIRK_GRACE">The Selkirk Grace</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#TO_A_MOUSE">To a Mouse</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Byron, Lord (George Noel Gordon).</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#PILGRIMAGE">A Selection from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#COMPANIONSHIP_WITH_NATURE">Companionship with Nature, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#MOONRISE">Moonrise, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#OH_WEEP_FOR_THOSE">Oh! weep for Those</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB">The Destruction of Sennacherib</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#GLADIATOR">The Gladiator, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Campbell, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#EXILE_OF_ERIN">Exile of Erin</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HALLOWED_GROUND">Hallowed Ground</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HOHENLINDEN">Hohenlinden</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER">Lord Ullin's Daughter</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SOLDIER_AND_SAILOR">Soldier and Sailor</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_GREEKS">Song of the Greeks</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC">The Battle of the Baltic</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM">The Soldier's Dream</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND">Ye Mariners of England</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#CHORAL_SONG_OF_ILLYRIAN_PEASANTS">Choral Song of Illyrian Peasants</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Collins, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE">How Sleep the Brave</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cornwall, Barry.</span> (See <span class="smcap">Procter</span>.)</td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cowley, Abraham.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_GRASSHOPPER">The Grasshopper</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cowper, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#EPITAPH">Epitaph on a Hare</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ON_A_SPANIEL_CALLED_BEAU_KILLING">On a Spaniel called "Beau" killing a Young Bird</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_CRICKET">The Cricket</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_ROYAL_GEORGE">The Royal George</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cunningham, Allan.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#AT_SEA">At Sea</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Drayton, Michael.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#A_FINE_DAY">A Fine Day</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Elliott, Ebenezer.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#WHEN_WILT_THOU_SAVE_THE_PEOPLE">When Wilt Thou save the People</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#CONCORD_HYMN">Concord Hymn</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Fletcher, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#EVENING">Evening</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Gay, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_COUNCIL_OF_HORSES">The Council of Horses</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Goethe, Johann Wolfgang.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#REST">Rest</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Gray, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ON_A_FAVORITE_CAT">On a Favorite Cat, drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Heber, Reginald.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#BRIGHTEST_AND_BEST_OF_THE_SONS_OF">Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#BY_COOL_SILOAMS_SHADY_RILL">By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HOLY_HOLY_HOLY">Holy, Holy, Holy</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hemans, Felicia.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD">The Graves of a Household</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_PILGRIM_FATHERS">The Pilgrim Fathers</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Herbert, George.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_ELIXIR">The Elixir</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#VIRTUE">Virtue</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Herrick, Robert.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#TO_DAFFODILS">To Daffodils</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hoffman, Charles Fenno.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#MONTEREY">Monterey</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hogg, James.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SKYLARK">The Skylark</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SELECTIONS_FROM_A_RHYMED_LESSON">A Rhymed Lesson, Selections</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#UNION_AND_LIBERTY">Union and Liberty</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hood, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#RUTH">Ruth</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Howitt, Mary.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_NORTHERN_SEAS">The Northern Seas</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hunt, Leigh.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER_AND_CRICKET">On the Grasshopper and Cricket</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ingelow, Jean.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#WINSTANLEY">Winstanley</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Jonson, Ben.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_NOBLE_NATURE">The Noble Nature</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Keats, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER">On the Grasshopper and Cricket</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SWEET_PEAS">Sweet Peas, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Keble, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#EVENING2">Evening</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#MORNING">Morning</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Kingsley, Charles.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ODE">Ode to the North-East Wind</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SANDALPHON">Sandalphon</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BELEAGUERED_CITY">The Beleaguered City</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lowell, James Russell.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_HERITAGE">The Heritage</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mickle, William J.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SAILORS_WIFE">The Sailor's Wife</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Milton, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HYMN2">Hymn of the Nativity, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Moore, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SOUND_THE_LOUD_TIMBREL">Sound the Loud Timbrel</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nash, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SPRING">Spring</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Newton, John.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#QUIET_LORD_MY_FROWARD_HEART">Quiet, Lord, my Froward Heart</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Percival, James G.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_CORAL_GROVE">The Coral Grove</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Percy, Thomas.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#KING_JOHN_AND_THE_ABBOT_OF">King John and the Abbot of Canterbury</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Procter, Adelaide.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_STORM">The Storm</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Procter, Bryan Waller (Barry Cornwall).</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#A_SONG_OF_THE_SEA">A Song of the Sea</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#BELSHAZZAR">Belshazzar</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#STARS">Stars</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_FISHERMAN">The Fisherman</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Quarles, Francis.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#GOOD-NIGHT">Good-Night</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Read, Thomas Buchanan.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SHERIDANS_RIDE">Sheridan's Ride</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SUMMER_SHOWER">The Summer Shower</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Rossetti, Christina G.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#A_GREEN_CORNFIELD">A Green Cornfield</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">St. Bernard.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#JERUSALEM_THE_GOLDEN">Jerusalem, the Golden</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Scott, Sir Walter.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ALICE_BRAND">Alice Brand</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#CORONACH">Coronach</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#JOCK_OF_HAZELDEAN">Jock of Hazeldean</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#PIBROCH_OF_DONUIL_DHU">Pibroch of Donald Dhu</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#REBECCAS_HYMN">Rebecca's Hymn</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SONG2">Song From "The Lady of the Lake"</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sears, Edmund H.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#CALM_ON_THE_LISTENING_EAR_OF_NIGHT">Calm on the Listening Ear of Night</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Shakespeare, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#DAFFODILS">Daffodils, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#ENGLAND">England, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#INGRATITUDE">Ingratitude, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#SONG">Song: "Orpheus with his lute made trees"</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_HONEY-BEE">The Honey-bee, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Shenstone, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SHEPHERDS_HOME">The Shepherd's Home</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Southey, Robert.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#LLEWELLYN_AND_HIS_DOG">Llewellyn and his Dog</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BATTLE_OF_BLENHEIM">The Battle of Blenheim</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_INCHCAPE_ROCK">The Inchcape Rock</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tennyson, Alfred.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#FAREWELL">A Farewell</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD">Home they brought her Warrior dead</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#LADY_CLARE">Lady Clare</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_LIGHT_BRIGADE">The Charge of the Light Brigade</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_NEW_YEAR">The New Year</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_REVENGE">The Revenge, A Selection</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THY_VOICE_IS_HEARD_THRO_ROLLING">Thy Voice is heard through Rolling Drums</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Trench, Richard C.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_DEWDROP">The Dewdrop</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_KINGDOM_OF_GOD">The Kingdom of God</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Whittier, John Greenleaf.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_PIPES_AT_LUCKNOW">The Pipes at Lucknow</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Wolfe, Charles.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_BURIAL_OF_SIR_JOHN_MOORE">The Burial of Sir John Moore</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr><tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Wordsworth, William.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#A_WRENS_NEST">A Wren's Nest</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#FIDELITY">Fidelity</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#MY_HEART_LEAPS_UP_WHEN_I_BEHOLD">My heart leaps up when I behold</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_DAFFODILS">The Daffodils</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#THE_SOLITARY_REAPER">The Solitary Reaper</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#TO_THE_CUCKOO">To the Cuckoo</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#TO_THE_SMALL_CELANDINE">To the Small Celandine</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+<h1><a name="THE_LAND_OF_SONG_Book_II" id="THE_LAND_OF_SONG_Book_II"></a>THE LAND OF SONG: <span class="smcap">Book</span> II.</h1>
+
+<h1><small><i>PART I.</i></small></h1>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 546px;">
+<img src="images/illus012.jpg" width="546" height="800" alt="AUTUMN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AUTUMN.</span>
+<p class="ralign">E. SEMENOWSKY.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+<h1><span class="smcap"><i>The Land of Song: Book II.</i></span></h1>
+
+<h1><small>PART ONE.</small></h1>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_DAFFODILS" id="THE_DAFFODILS"></a>THE DAFFODILS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 195px;">
+<img src="images/illus013.jpg" width="195" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I wandered lonely as a cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That floats on high o'er vales and hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When all at once I saw a crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A host, of golden daffodils;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Continuous as the stars that shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And twinkle on the milky way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They stretched in never-ending line<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the margin of a bay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand saw I at a glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The waves beside them danced; but they<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A poet could not but be gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In such a jocund company;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I gazed&mdash;and gazed&mdash;but little thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What wealth the show to me had brought:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For oft, when on my couch I lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vacant or in pensive mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They flash upon that inward eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is the bliss of solitude;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dances with the daffodils.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="TO_DAFFODILS" id="TO_DAFFODILS"></a>TO DAFFODILS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair Daffodils, we weep to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You haste away so soon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As yet the early-rising Sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has not attained his noon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Stay, stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Until the hasting day<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Has run<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But to the evensong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, having prayed together, we<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will go with you along.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We have short time to stay, as you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We have as short a spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As quick a growth to meet decay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As you, or anything:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">We die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As your hours do, and dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Away<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like to the summer's rain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or as the pearls of morning's dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ne'er to be found again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Herrick.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="DAFFODILS" id="DAFFODILS"></a>DAFFODILS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Daffodils<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That come before the swallow dares, and take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winds of March with beauty.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1">"<i>A Winter's Tale.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_HONEY-BEE" id="THE_HONEY-BEE"></a>THE HONEY-BEE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For so work the honey-bees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creatures that by a rule in nature teach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The act of order to a peopled kingdom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have a king and officers of sorts;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others, like soldiers, arm&egrave;d in their stings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which pillage they with merry march bring home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the tent-royal of their emperor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, busied in his majesty, surveys<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The singing masons building roofs of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The civil citizens, kneading up the honey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The poor mechanic porters crowding in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1">"<i>King Henry V.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus016.jpg" width="640" height="285" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="UPON_THE_MOUNTAINS_DISTANT_HEAD" id="UPON_THE_MOUNTAINS_DISTANT_HEAD"></a>UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upon the mountain's distant head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With trackless snows forever white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where all is still, and cold, and dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Late shines the day's departing light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But far below those icy rocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The vales in summer bloom arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are dim with mist and dark with shade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And eyes whose generous meanings burn,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earliest the light of life departs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But lingers with the cold and stern.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus017.jpg" width="480" height="631" alt="LORD BYRON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">LORD BYRON.</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="OH_WEEP_FOR_THOSE" id="OH_WEEP_FOR_THOSE"></a>OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mourn&mdash;where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Judah's melody once more rejoice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How shall ye flee away and be at rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mankind their country&mdash;Israel but the grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB" id="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB"></a>THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That host with their banners at sunset were seen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And there lay the rider distorted and pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOLY_HOLY_HOLY" id="HOLY_HOLY_HOLY"></a>HOLY, HOLY, HOLY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holy, holy, holy! merciful and mighty!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Holy, holy, holy! all the saints adore Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which wert and art and evermore shalt be!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Perfect in power, in love, and purity!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><i>Altered from</i> <span class="smcap">Reginald Heber</span>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="REBECCAS_HYMN" id="REBECCAS_HYMN"></a>REBECCA'S HYMN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When Israel, of the Lord beloved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of the land of bondage came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her father's God before her moved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An awful guide, in smoke and flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By day, along the astonished lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cloudy pillar glided slow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Returned the fiery column's glow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There rose the choral hymn of praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And trump and timbrel answered keen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Zion's daughters poured their lays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With priest's and warrior's voice between.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No portents now our foes amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forsaken Israel wanders lone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our fathers would not know Thy ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Thou hast left them to their own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, present still, though now unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When brightly shines the prosperous day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To temper the deceitful ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oh, when stoops on Judah's path<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In shade and storm the frequent night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be Thou long-suffering, slow to wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A burning and a shining light!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our harps we left by Babel's streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><span class="i0">No censer round our altar beams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Thou hast said, the blood of goat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flesh of rams I will not prize;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A contrite heart, an humble thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are mine accepted sacrifice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From "Ivanhoe."</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOHENLINDEN" id="HOHENLINDEN"></a>HOHENLINDEN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On Linden, when the sun was low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dark as winter was the flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Linden saw another sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the drum beat, at dead of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commanding fires of death to light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The darkness of her scenery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By torch and trumpet fast arrayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each horseman drew his battle blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And furious every charger neighed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To join the dreadful revelry.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then shook the hills, with thunder riven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then rushed the steed, to battle driven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And louder than the bolts of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Far flashed the red artillery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But redder yet that light shall glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Linden's hills of stain&egrave;d snow;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><span class="i0">And bloodier yet the torrent flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where furious Frank and fiery Hun<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shout in their sulphurous canopy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The combat deepens. On, ye brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who rush to glory, or the grave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And charge with all thy chivalry!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Few, few shall part, where many meet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow shall be their winding sheet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every turf beneath their feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall be a soldier's sepulcher.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_BURIAL_OF_SIR_JOHN_MOORE" id="THE_BURIAL_OF_SIR_JOHN_MOORE"></a>THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As his corse to the rampart we hurried;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er the grave where our hero we buried.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We buried him darkly at dead of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sods with our bayonets turning;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the lantern dimly burning.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No useless coffin inclosed his breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With his martial cloak around him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Few and short were the prayers we said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And smoothed down his lonely pillow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we far away on the billow!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the grave where a Briton has laid him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But half of our heavy task was done<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we heard the distant and random gun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the foe was sullenly firing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid him down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But we left him alone with his glory!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Charles Wolfe.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 474px;">
+<img src="images/illus024.jpg" width="474" height="640" alt="SIR WALTER SCOTT." title="" />
+<span class="caption">SIR WALTER SCOTT.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="PIBROCH_OF_DONUIL_DHU" id="PIBROCH_OF_DONUIL_DHU"></a>PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pibroch of Donuil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake thy wild voice anew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Summon Clan Conuil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come away, come away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hark to the summons!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come in your war array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gentles and commons.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come from deep glen, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From mountains so rocky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The war pipe and pennon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are at Inverlocky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come every hill plaid, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">True heart that wears one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come every steel blade, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Strong hand that bears one.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave untended the herd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flock without shelter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave the corpse uninterred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bride at the altar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave the deer, leave the steer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leave nets and barges;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come with your fighting gear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Broadswords and targes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come as the winds come, when<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forests are rended;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come as the waves come, when<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Navies are stranded;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faster come, faster come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Faster and faster,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chief, vassal, page, and groom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tenant and master.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fast they come, fast they come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">See how they gather!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wide waves the eagle plume<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blended with heather.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span><span class="i0">Cast your plaids, draw your blades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forward each man set!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pibroch of Donuil Dhu<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Knell for the onset!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM" id="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM"></a>THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When reposing that night on my pallet of straw<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate track;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas autumn,&mdash;and sunshine arose on the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From my home and my weeping friends never to part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Stay, stay with us!&mdash;rest! thou art weary and worn!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD" id="HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD"></a>HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Home they brought her warrior dead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She nor swooned, nor uttered cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All her maidens, watching, said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"She must weep or she will die."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then they praised him, soft and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Called him worthy to be loved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Truest friend and noblest foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet she neither spoke nor moved.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stole a maiden from her place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lightly to the warrior stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took the face cloth from the face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet she neither moved nor wept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rose a nurse of ninety years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Set his child upon her knee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like summer tempest came her tears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Sweet my child, I live for thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus028.jpg" width="640" height="286" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="LAMENT_OF_MARY_QUEEN_OF_SCOTS" id="LAMENT_OF_MARY_QUEEN_OF_SCOTS"></a>LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">On the Approach of Spring.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Nature hangs her mantle green<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On every blooming tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spreads her sheets o' daisies white<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out o'er the grassy lea:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now Ph&#339;bus cheers the crystal streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And glads the azure skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But nought can glad the weary wight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That fast in durance lies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aloft on dewy wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merl&egrave;, in his noon-tide bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Makes woodland echoes ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mavis wild wi' mony a note<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sings drowsy day to rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In love and freedom they rejoice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' care nor thrall opprest.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now blooms the lily by the bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The primrose down the brae;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hawthorne's budding in the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And milk-white is the slae;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The meanest hind in fair Scotland<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May rove their sweets amang;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Maun lie in prison strang!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I was the Queen o' bonnie France,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where happy I hae been;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As blythe lay down at e'en:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'm the sov'reign o' Scotland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And mony a traitor there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet here I lie in foreign bands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And never-ending care.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My son! my son! may kinder stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon thy fortune shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And may those pleasures gild thy reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ne'er wad blink on mine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or turn their hearts to thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Remember him for me!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! soon, to me, may summer suns<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nae mair light up the morn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wave o'er the yellow corn!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><span class="i0">And in the narrow house o' death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let winter round me rave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the next flow'rs that deck the spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bloom on my peaceful grave!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus030.jpg" width="640" height="330" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="BY_COOL_SILOAMS_SHADY_RILL" id="BY_COOL_SILOAMS_SHADY_RILL"></a>BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By cool Siloam's shady rill<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How sweet the lily grows!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet the breath beneath the hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Sharon's dewy rose!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo, such the child whose early feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The paths of peace have trod;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is upward drawn to God.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By cool Siloam's shady rill<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lily must decay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rose that blooms beneath the hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must shortly fade away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Reginald Heber.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_SELKIRK_GRACE" id="THE_SELKIRK_GRACE"></a>THE SELKIRK GRACE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some hae meat and canna eat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some wad eat that want it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we hae meat and we can eat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sae the Lord be thankit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_LOVE_OF_GOD" id="THE_LOVE_OF_GOD"></a>THE LOVE OF GOD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The forms of men shall be as they had never been;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale, shall die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the great globe itself, so the holy writings tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall melt with fervent heat&mdash;they shall all pass away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><small><i>From the Proven&ccedil;al of Bernard Rascas.</i></small><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_PLANTING_OF_THE" id="THE_PLANTING_OF_THE"></a>THE PLANTING OF THE
+APPLE TREE.</h2>
+
+<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illus032.jpg); height: 450px;" >
+<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:410px; height:250px;"> </div>
+<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:100px; height:200px;"> </div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">ome, let us plant the apple tree.<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Wide let its hollow bed be made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">There gently lay the roots, and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Sift the dark mold with kindly care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And press it o'er them tenderly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">As, round the sleeping infant's feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">We softly fold the cradle sheet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">So plant we the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buds, which the breath of summer days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We plant, upon the sunny lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A shadow for the noontide hour,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><span class="i0">A shelter from the summer shower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When we plant the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweets for a hundred flowery springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To load the May wind's restless wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, from the orchard row, he pours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its fragrance through our open doors;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A world of blossoms for the bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We plant with the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And redden in the August noon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drop, when gentle airs come by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fan the blue September sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While children come, with cries of glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seek them where the fragrant grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betrays their bed to those who pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the foot of the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And when, above this apple tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winter stars are quivering bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And winds go howling through the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Girls, whose young eyes overflow with mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And guests in prouder homes shall see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And golden orange of the line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fruit of the apple tree.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The fruitage of this apple tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winds, and our flag of stripe and star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where men shall wonder at the view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ask in what fair groves they grew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sojourners beyond the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall think of childhood's careless day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long, long hours of summer play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the shade of the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Each year shall give this apple tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A broader flush of roseate bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The years shall come and pass, but we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall hear no longer, where we lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the boughs of the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And time shall waste this apple tree.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, when its aged branches throw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin shadows on the ground below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall fraud and force and iron will<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oppress the weak and helpless still?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What shall the tasks of mercy be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of those who live when length of years<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is wasting this apple tree?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Who planted this old apple tree?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The children of that distant day<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><span class="i0">Thus to some aged man shall say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, gazing on its mossy stem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gray-haired man shall answer them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"A poet of the land was he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Born in the rude but good old times;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On planting the apple tree."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;">
+<img src="images/illus035.jpg" width="448" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_FINE_DAY" id="A_FINE_DAY"></a>A FINE DAY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Clear had the day been from the dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All chequer'd was the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin clouds like scarfs of cobweb lawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Veiled heaven's most glorious eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind had no more strength than this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That leisurely it blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make one leaf the next to kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That closely by it grew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Michael Drayton.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus036.jpg" width="640" height="352" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_SUMMER_SHOWER" id="THE_SUMMER_SHOWER"></a>THE SUMMER SHOWER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As when the strong storm wind is reaping the plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And loiters the boy in the briery lane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It dashes the dust with its numberless feet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild birds sit listening, the drops round them beat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The swallows alone take the storm on their wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While a bubble darts up from each widening ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The robin darts out from his bower of leaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Buchanan Read.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="MY_HEART_LEAPS_UP_WHEN_I_BEHOLD" id="MY_HEART_LEAPS_UP_WHEN_I_BEHOLD"></a>MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My heart leaps up when I behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A rainbow in the sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So was it when my life began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So is it now I am a man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So be it when I shall grow old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or let me die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Child is father of the Man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="O_WAD_SOME_POWER" id="O_WAD_SOME_POWER"></a>O WAD SOME POWER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Wad some Power the giftie gie us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see oursel's as others see us!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It wad frae mony a blunder free us<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">An' foolish notion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And ev'n devotion!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus038.jpg" width="640" height="410" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="SPRING" id="SPRING"></a>SPRING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The palm and may make country houses gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In every street these tunes our ears do greet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Spring! the sweet spring!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Nash.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_SKYLARK" id="THE_SKYLARK"></a>THE SKYLARK.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 225px;">
+<img src="images/illus039.jpg" width="225" height="640" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Bird of the wilderness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blithesome and cumberless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blest is thy dwelling-place&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Wild is thy lay and loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far in the downy cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where, on thy dewy wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where art thou journeying?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">O'er fell and fountain sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er moor and mountain green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over the cloudlet dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over the rainbow's rim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then, when the gloaming comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Low in the heather blooms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Best is thy dwelling-place&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">James Hogg.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="TO_THE_CUCKOO" id="TO_THE_CUCKOO"></a>TO THE CUCKOO.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Blithe newcomer! I have heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I hear thee and rejoice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or but a wandering voice?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While I am lying on the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy twofold shout I hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From hill to hill it seems to pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At once far off and near!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though babbling only to the vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of sunshine and of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou bringest unto me a tale<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of visionary hours.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even yet thou art to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No bird, but an invisible thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A voice, a mystery;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The same whom in my schoolboy days<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I listened to; that cry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which made me look a thousand ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In bush, and tree, and sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To seek thee did I often rove<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through woods and on the green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou wert still a hope, a love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still longed for, never seen.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I can listen to thee yet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can lie upon the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And listen, till I do beget<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That golden time again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O bless&egrave;d bird! the earth we pace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Again appears to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An unsubstantial, fairy place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That is fit home for thee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_GREEN_CORNFIELD" id="A_GREEN_CORNFIELD"></a>A GREEN CORNFIELD.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The earth was green, the sky was blue:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I saw and heard one sunny morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A skylark hang between the two,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A singing speck above the corn;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A stage below, in gay accord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">White butterflies danced on the wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still the singing skylark soared<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And silent sank, and soared to sing.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cornfield stretched a tender green<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To right and left beside my walks;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew he had a nest unseen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Somewhere among the million stalks:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And as I paused to hear his song<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While swift the sunny moments slid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps his mate sat listening long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And listened longer than I did.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Christina G. Rossetti.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="MARCH" id="MARCH"></a>MARCH.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 139px;">
+<img src="images/illus042.jpg" width="139" height="640" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 460px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stormy March is come at last<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear the rushing of the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That through the snowy valley flies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, passing few are those who speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art a welcome month to me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For thou, to northern lands, again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The glad and glorious sun dost bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou hast joined the gentle train<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wear'st the gentle name of spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, in thy reign of blast and storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the changed winds are soft and warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Heaven puts on the blue of May.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sing aloud the gushing rills<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In joy that they again are free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, brightly leaping down the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Begin their journey to the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The year's departing beauty hides<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of wintry storms the sullen threat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in thy sternest frown abides<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A look of kindly promise yet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And that soft time of sunny showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seems of a brighter world than ours.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_INCHCAPE_ROCK" id="THE_INCHCAPE_ROCK"></a>THE INCHCAPE ROCK.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ship was still as she could be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sails from heaven received no motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her keel was steady in the ocean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Without either sign or sound of their shock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So little they rose, so little they fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They did not move the Inchcape bell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over the waves its warning rung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mariners heard the warning bell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then they knew the perilous Rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun in heaven was shining gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things were joyful on that day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The seabirds screamed as they wheeled around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there was joyance in their sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A darker speck on the ocean green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He felt the cheering power of spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It made him whistle, it made him sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heart was mirthful to excess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His eye was on the Inchcape float;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And row me to the Inchcape Rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the Inchcape Rock they go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down sunk the bell, with a gurgling sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bubbles rose and burst around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He scoured the seas for many a day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now grown rich with plunder's store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He steers his course for Scotland's shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cannot see the sun on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind hath blown a gale all day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At evening it hath died away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On the deck the Rover takes his stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So dark it is they see no land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For there is the dawn of the rising moon."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Can'st hear," said one, "the breakers roar?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For methinks we should be near the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now where we are I cannot tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I wish I could hear the Inchcape bell."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They hear no sound, the swell is strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And curst himself in his despair;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waves rush in on every side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ship is sinking beneath the tide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But even in his dying fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sound as if with the Inchcape bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fiends below were ringing his knell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Southey.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_PIED_PIPER_OF_HAMELIN" id="THE_PIED_PIPER_OF_HAMELIN"></a>THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By famous Hanover city;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The river Weser deep and wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Washes its walls on the southern side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A pleasanter spot you never spied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, when begins my ditty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Almost five hundred years ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see the townsfolk suffer so<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From vermin, was a pity.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Rats!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They fought the dogs and killed the cats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bit the babies in their cradles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ate the cheeses out of the vats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Split open the kegs of salted sprats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even spoiled the women's chats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By drowning their speaking<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With shrieking and squeaking<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In fifty different sharps and flats.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 433px;">
+<img src="images/illus047.jpg" width="433" height="640" alt="ROBERT BROWNING." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT BROWNING.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At last the people in a body<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the town hall came flocking:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as for our Corporation&mdash;shocking<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To think we buy gowns lined with ermine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For dolts that can't or won't determine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What's best to rid us of our vermin!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You hope, because you're old and obese,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To find in the furry civic robe ease!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="i0">Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To find the remedy we're lacking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At this the Mayor and Corporation<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quaked with a mighty consternation.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An hour they sat in council;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At length the Mayor broke silence:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I wish I were a mile hence!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It's easy to bid one rack one's brain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm sure my poor head aches again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've scratched it so, and all in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just as he said this, what should hap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the chamber door but a gentle tap?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anything like the sound of a rat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes my heart go pitapat!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in did come the strangest figure!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His queer long coat from heel to head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was half of yellow and half of red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he himself was tall and thin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lips where smiles went out and in&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was no guessing his kith and kin!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nobody could enough admire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tall man and his quaint attire:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth one, "It's as my great-grandsire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Starting up at the trump of Doom's tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He advanced to the council table:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By means of a secret charm, to draw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All creatures living beneath the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After me so as you never saw!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I chiefly use my charm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On creatures that do people harm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And people call me the Pied Piper."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here they noticed round his neck<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A scarf of red and yellow stripe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To match with his coat of the selfsame check;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if impatient to be playing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon this pipe, as low it dangled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over his vesture so old fangled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Tartary I freed the Cham,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I eased in Asia the Nizam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as for what your brain bewilders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I can rid your town of rats<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will you give me a thousand guilders?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"One? fifty thousand!" was the exclamation<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Into the street the Piper stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiling first a little smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if he knew what magic slept<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In his quiet pipe the while;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then like a musical adept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You heard as if an army muttered;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the muttering grew into a grumbling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And out of the houses the rats came tumbling&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curling tails, and pricking whiskers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Families by tens and dozens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Followed the Piper for their lives.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From street to street he piped, advancing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And step for step they followed, dancing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until they came to the river Weser<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein all plunged and perished,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save one, who stout as Julius C&aelig;sar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swam across, and lived to carry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(As he the manuscript he cherished)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Rat-land home his commentary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And putting apples wondrous ripe<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class="i0">Into a cider press's gripe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a moving away of pickle-tub boards,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a leaving ajar of conserve cupboards,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a breaking the hoops of butter casks;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it seemed as if a voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breakfast, dinner, supper, luncheon!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And just as a bulky sugar puncheon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All ready staved, like a great sun shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glorious, scarce an inch before me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I found the Weser rolling o'er me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You should have heard the Hamelin people<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poke out the nests, and block up the holes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Consult with carpenters and builders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave in town not even a trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the rats!" When suddenly up the face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the Piper perked in the market place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So did the Corporation too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For council dinners made rare havoc<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half the money would replenish<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><span class="i0">Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pay this sum to a wandering fellow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Besides," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Our business was done at the river's brink;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what's dead can't come to life, I think.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the duty of giving you something for drink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a matter of money to put in your poke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, as for the guilders, what we spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of them, as you very well know, was in joke&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside, our losses have made us thrifty:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Piper's face fell, and he cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"No trifling! I can't wait; beside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've promised to visit by dinner time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bagdat, and accept the prime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For having left in the Caliph's kitchen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a nest of scorpions no survivor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With him I proved no bargain-driver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And folks who put me in a passion<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May find me pipe to another fashion."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being worse treated than a cook?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Insulted by a lazy ribald<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With idle pipe and vesture piebald?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blow your pipe there till you burst!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Once more he stept into the street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And to his lips again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ere he blew three notes (such sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft notes as yet musician's cunning<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never gave the enraptured air),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out came the children running:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the little boys and girls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if they were changed into blocks of wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unable to move a step, or cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the children merrily skipping by,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And could only follow with the eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now the Mayor was on the rack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the Piper turned from the High Street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To where the Weser rolled its waters<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right in the way of their sons and daughters!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">However, he turned from south to west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after him the children pressed;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span><span class="i0">Great was the joy in every breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"He never can cross that mighty top!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's forced to let the piping drop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we shall see our children stop!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, lo! as they reached the mountain's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wondrous portal opened wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Piper advanced, and the children followed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when all were in to the very last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The door in the mountain side shut fast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did I say, all? No! one was lame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And could not dance the whole of the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in after years, if you would blame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His sadness, he was used to say,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It's dull in our town since my playmates left!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can't forget that I'm bereft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the pleasant sights they see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which the Piper also promised me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joining the town and just at hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flowers put forth a fairer hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And everything was strange and new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their dogs outran our fallow deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And honeybees had lost their stings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And horses were born with eagles' wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And just as I became assured<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lame foot would be speedily cured,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music stopped and I stood still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found myself outside the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left alone against my will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To go now limping as before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never hear of that country more!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 562px;">
+<img src="images/illus055.jpg" width="562" height="800" alt="THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.</span>
+<p class="ralign">H. KAULBACH.</p>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To offer the Piper by word of mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherever it was man's lot to find him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silver and gold to his heart's content,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If he'd only return the way he went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bring the children behind him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Piper and dancers were gone forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They made a decree that lawyers never<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Should think their records dated duly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If after the day of the month and year<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These words did not as well appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And so long after what happened here<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the twenty-second of July,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thirteen hundred and seventy-six."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the better in memory to fix<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The place of the children's last retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They called it the Pied Piper's Street&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where any one playing on pipe or tabor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was sure for the future to lose his labor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To shock with mirth a street so solemn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But opposite the place of the cavern<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They wrote the story on a column,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the great church window painted<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The same, to make the world acquainted<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How their children were stolen away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there it stands to this very day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I must not omit to say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in Transylvania there's a tribe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of alien people, that ascribe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The outlandish ways and dress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which their neighbors lay such stress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To their fathers and mothers having risen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of some subterraneous prison,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into which they were trepanned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long ago in a mighty band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But how or why, they don't understand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, Willy, let you and me be wipers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of scores out with all men,&mdash;especially pipers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="INGRATITUDE" id="INGRATITUDE"></a>INGRATITUDE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art not so unkind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As man's ingratitude;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy tooth is not so keen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because thou art not seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Although thy breath be rude.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou dost not bite so nigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As benefits forgot:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though thou the waters warp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy sting is not so sharp<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As friend remembered not.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From "As You Like It."</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus058.jpg" width="640" height="304" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_THE_SEA" id="A_SONG_OF_THE_SEA"></a>A SONG OF THE SEA.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sea! the sea! the open sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blue, the fresh, the ever free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a mark, without a bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or like a cradled creature lies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am where I would ever be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the blue above, and the blue below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And silence wheresoe'er I go;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If a storm should come and awake the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What matter? I shall ride and sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I love (O! how I love) to ride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When every mad wave drowns the moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tells how goeth the world below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And why the southwest blasts do blow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I never was on the dull, tame shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I loved the great sea more and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And backwards flew to her billowy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a mother she was and is to me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I was born on the open sea!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The waves were white, and red the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the noisy hour when I was born;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never was heard such an outcry wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As welcomed to life the ocean child!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I've lived since then, in calm and strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full fifty summers a sailor's life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wealth to spend, and a power to range,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But never have sought, nor sighed for change;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Death, whenever he come to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Bryan Waller Procter</span> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="AT_SEA" id="AT_SEA"></a>AT SEA.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A wind that follows fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fills the white and rustling sail<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bends the gallant mast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While like the eagle free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Old England on the lee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh for a soft and gentle wind!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I heard a fair one cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But give to me the snoring breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And white waves heaving high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And white waves heaving high, my lads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The good ship tight and free:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world of waters is our home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And merry men are we.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There's tempest in yon horn&egrave;d moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lightning in yon cloud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But hark the music, mariners!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wind is piping loud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind is piping loud, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lightning flashes free:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the hollow oak our palace is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our heritage the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Allan Cunningham.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus061.jpg" width="640" height="397" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_NORTHERN_SEAS" id="THE_NORTHERN_SEAS"></a>THE NORTHERN SEAS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up! up! let us a voyage take;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why sit we here at ease?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Find us a vessel tight and snug,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bound for the northern seas.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to see the northern lights<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With their rushing splendors fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like living things with flaming wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wide o'er the wondrous sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to see those icebergs vast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With heads all crowned with snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose green roots sleep in the awful deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Two hundred fathoms low.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to hear the thundering crash<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of their terrific fall,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the echoes from a thousand cliffs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like lonely voices call.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There shall we see the fierce white bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sleepy seals aground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the spouting whales that to and fro<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sail with a dreary sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There may we tread on depths of ice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the hairy mammoth hide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perfect as when, in times of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The mighty creature died.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And while the unsetting sun shines on<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the still heaven's deep blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll traverse the azure waves, the herds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the dread sea horse to view.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We'll pass the shores of solemn pine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where wolves and black bears prowl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And away to the rocky isles of mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To rouse the northern fowl.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up there shall start ten thousand wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a rustling, whistling din;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up shall the auk and fulmar start,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All but the fat penguin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And there in the wastes of the silent sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the silent earth below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We shall see far off to his lonely rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lonely eagle go.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then softly, softly will we tread<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By inland streams, to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the pelican of the silent North<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sits there all silently.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Mary Howitt.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CORAL_GROVE" id="THE_CORAL_GROVE"></a>THE CORAL GROVE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Deep in the wave is a coral grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That never are wet with the falling dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in bright and changeful beauty shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far down in the green and glassy brine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From coral rocks the sea plants lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The water is calm and still below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the winds and waves are absent there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sands are bright as the stars that glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the motionless fields of upper air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, with its waving blade of green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sea flag streams through the silent water,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, with a light and easy motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fan coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are bending like corn on the upland lea:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And life in rare and beautiful forms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has made the top of the waves his own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the ship from his fury flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the myriad voices of ocean roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the wind god frowns in the murky skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And demons are waiting the wreck on shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, far below, in the peaceful sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The purple mullet and goldfish rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the waters murmur tranquilly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">James Gates Percival.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus064.jpg" width="640" height="284" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="ALICE_BRAND" id="ALICE_BRAND"></a>ALICE BRAND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Merry it is in the good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the mavis and merle are singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the hunter's horn is ringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Alice Brand, my native land<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is lost for love of you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we must hold by wood and wold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As outlaws wont to do!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That on the night of our luckless flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy brother bold I slew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now I must teach to hew the beech<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hand that held the glaive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For leaves to spread our lowly bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And stakes to fence our cave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That wont on harp to stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keep the cold away."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Richard! if my brother died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twas but a fatal chance:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For darkling was the battle tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fortune sped the lance.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If pall and vair no more I wear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor thou the crimson sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As gay the forest green.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lost thy native land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still Alice has her own Rich&agrave;rd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he his Alice Brand."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So blithe Lady Alice is singing;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the beech's pride and oak's brown side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lord Richard's ax is ringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up spoke the moody Elfin King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who wonn'd within the hill,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His voice was ghostly shrill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our moonlight circle's screen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or who comes here to chase the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beloved of our Elfin Queen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or who may dare on wold to wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fairies' fatal green?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For thou wert christened man:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For muttered word or ban.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The curse of the sleepless eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till he wish and pray that his life would part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet find leave to die!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though the birds have stilled their singing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The evening blaze doth Alice raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Richard is fagots bringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Before Lord Richard stands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as he crossed and blessed himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That is made with bloody hands."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That woman void of fear,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And if there's blood upon his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis but the blood of deer."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It cleaves unto his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stain of thine own kindly blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blood of Ethert Brand."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And made the holy sign,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A spotless hand is mine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And I conjure thee, Demon elf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By Him whom Demons fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To show us whence thou art thyself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And what thine errand here?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When fairy birds are singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bit and bridle ringing:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And gayly shines the Fairyland&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But all is glistening show,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the idle gleam that December's beam<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can dart on ice and snow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And fading, like that varied gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is our inconstant shape,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who now like knight and lady seem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now like dwarf and ape.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was between the night and day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the Fairy King has power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I sunk down in a sinful fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And 'twixt life and death, was snatched away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the joyless Elfin bower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But wist I of a woman bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who thrice my brow durst sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I might regain my mortal mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fair a form as thine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She crossed him once&mdash;she crossed him twice&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lady was so brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fouler grew his goblin hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The darker grew the cave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She crossed him thrice, that lady bold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He rose beneath her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fairest knight on Scottish mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her brother, Ethert Brand!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Merry it is in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the mavis and merle are singing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But merrier were they in Dumfermline gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When all the bells were ringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="FOR_A_THAT_AND_A_THAT" id="FOR_A_THAT_AND_A_THAT"></a>FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there, for honest poverty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That hangs his head, and a' that?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coward slave, we pass him by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We dare be poor for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our toils obscure, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rank is but the guinea's stamp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The man's the gowd for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What tho' on hamely fare we dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A man's a man, for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their tinsel show, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The honest man, though e'er sae poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is king o' men for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wha struts, and stares, and a' that:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though hundreds worship at his word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He's but a coof for a' that:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His riband, star, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The man of independent mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He looks and laughs at a' that.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 585px;">
+<img src="images/illus070.jpg" width="585" height="800" alt="ROBERT BURNS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT BURNS.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A king can make a belted knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A marquis, duke, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But an honest man's aboon his might!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guid faith, he mauna fa' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their dignities, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are higher ranks than a' that.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then let us pray that come it may&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As come it will, for a' that&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May bear the gree, and a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It's comin' yet for a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That man to man, the warld o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall brothers be for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CHILDREN_IN_THE_WOOD" id="THE_CHILDREN_IN_THE_WOOD"></a>THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now ponder well, you parents dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These words which I shall write;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A doleful story you shall hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In time brought forth to light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gentleman of good account<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Norfolk dwelt of late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who did in honor far surmount<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Most men of his estate.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sore sick he was, and like to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No help his life could save;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wife by him as sick did lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And both possessed one grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No love between these two was lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each was to other kind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In love they lived, in love they died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And left two babes behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The one, a fine and pretty boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not passing three years old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other, a girl more young than he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And framed in beauty's mold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The father left his little son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As plainly doth appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When he to perfect age should come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Three hundred pounds a year.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And to his little daughter Jane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Five hundred pounds in gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be paid down on her marriage day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which might not be controlled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if the children chanced to die<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere they to age should come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their uncle should possess their wealth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For so the will did run.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now, brother," said the dying man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Look to my children dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be good unto my boy and girl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No friends else have they here:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To God and you I recommend<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My children dear this day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But little while be sure we have<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Within this world to stay.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"You must be father and mother both,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And uncle all in one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God knows what will become of them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When I am dead and gone."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that bespake their mother dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"O brother kind," quoth she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You are the man must bring our babes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wealth or misery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And if you keep them carefully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then God will you reward;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if you otherwise should deal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">God will your deeds regard."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lips as cold as any stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They kissed their children small:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"God bless you both, my children dear;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With that their tears did fall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These speeches then their brother spake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To this sick couple there:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The keeping of your little ones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet sister, do not fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God never prosper me or mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor aught else that I have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I do wrong your children dear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When you are laid in grave."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The parents being dead and gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The children home he takes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brings them straight unto his house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where much of them he makes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He had not kept these pretty babes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A twelvemonth and a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, for their wealth, he did devise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To make them both away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He bargained with two ruffians strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which were of furious mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they should take these children young<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And slay them in a wood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He told his wife an artful tale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He would the children send<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be brought up in fair London,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With one that was his friend.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Away then went those pretty babes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rejoicing at that tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rejoicing with a merry mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They should on cockhorse ride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They prate and prattle pleasantly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they rode on the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To those that should their butchers be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And work their lives' decay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So that the pretty speech they had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made murder's heart relent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they that undertook the deed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full sore did now repent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet one of them, more hard of heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did vow to do his charge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because the wretch that hired him<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had paid him very large.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The other won't agree thereto,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So here they fall to strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one another they did fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">About the children's life:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he that was of mildest mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did slay the other there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within an unfrequented wood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The babes did quake for fear!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He took the children by the hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tears standing in their eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bade them straightway follow him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And look they did not cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And two long miles he led them on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While they for food complain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When I come back again."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These pretty babes, with hand in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Went wandering up and down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But never more could see the man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Approaching from the town:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their pretty lips with blackberries<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were all besmeared and dyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when they saw the darksome night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They sat them down and cried.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus wandered these poor innocents<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till death did end their grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In one another's arms they died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As wanting due relief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No burial this pretty pair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of any man received,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Robin Redbreast piously<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did cover them with leaves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now the heavy wrath of God<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon their uncle fell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His conscience felt an hell:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His barns were fired, his goods consumed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His lands were barren made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His cattle died within the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And nothing with him stayed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And in the voyage to Portugal<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Two of his sons did die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to conclude, himself was brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To want and misery.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He pawned and mortgaged all his land<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere seven years came about.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now at length this wicked act<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did by this means come out:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fellow that did take in hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These children for to kill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was for a robbery judged to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such was God's bless&egrave;d will.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who did confess the very truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As here hath been displayed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their uncle having died in gaol,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where he for debt was laid.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You that executors be made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And overseers eke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of children that be fatherless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And infants mild and meek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take you example by this thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And yield to each his right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest God with such like misery<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your wicked minds requite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><i>Old Ballad.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SHEPHERDS_HOME" id="THE_SHEPHERDS_HOME"></a>THE SHEPHERD'S HOME.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="backbleft" style="background-image: url(images/illus077.jpg); height: 760px;" >
+<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:120px; height:760px;"> </div>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">My banks they are furnished with bees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Whose murmur invites one to sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">My grottoes are shaded with trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And my hills are white over with sheep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">I seldom have met with a loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Such health do my fountains bestow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">My fountains all bordered with moss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Where the harebells and violets blow.<br /></span>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">Not a pine in the grove is there seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Not a beech's more beautiful green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But a sweetbrier entwines it around.<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Not my fields in the prime of the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">More charms than my cattle unfold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Not a brook that is limpid and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But it glitters with fishes of gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">I have found out a gift for my fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">I have found where the wood pigeons breed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">But let me such plunder forbear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">She will say 'twas a barbarous deed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">For he ne'er could be true, she averred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Who would rob a poor bird of its young;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">And I loved her the more when I heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Such tenderness fall from her tongue.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shenstone.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="ON_A_SPANIEL_CALLED_BEAU_KILLING" id="ON_A_SPANIEL_CALLED_BEAU_KILLING"></a>ON A SPANIEL CALLED "BEAU" KILLING<br />
+A YOUNG BIRD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A spaniel, Beau, that fares like you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well fed, and at his ease,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should wiser be than to pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each trifle that he sees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But you have killed a tiny bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which flew not till to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against my orders, whom you heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forbidding you the prey.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor did you kill that you might eat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ease a doggish pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him, though chased with furious heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You left where he was slain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor was he of the thievish sort,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or one whom blood allures;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But innocent was all his sport<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom you have torn for yours.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My dog! what remedy remains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since, teach you all I can,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see you, after all my pains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So much resemble man?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<h2>BEAU'S REPLY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sir, when I flew to seize the bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In spite of your command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A louder voice than yours I heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And harder to withstand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You cried&mdash;"Forbear!" but in my breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A mightier cried&mdash;"Proceed!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas Nature, sir, whose strong behest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Impelled me to the deed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet much as Nature I respect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I ventured once to break<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(As you perhaps may recollect)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her precept for your sake;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when your linnet on a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Passing his prison door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had fluttered all his strength away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And panting pressed the floor:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well knowing him a sacred thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not destined to my tooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only kissed his ruffled wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And licked the feathers smooth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let my obedience then excuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My disobedience now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor some reproof yourself refuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From your aggrieved Bow-wow;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If killing birds be such a crime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(Which I can hardly see),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What think you, sir, of killing Time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With verse addressed to me!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cowper.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SWEET_PEAS" id="SWEET_PEAS"></a>SWEET PEAS.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Selection.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taper fingers catching at all things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bind them all about with tiny rings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Linger awhile upon some bending planks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watch intently Nature's gentle doings:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How silent comes the water round that bend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the minutest whisper does it send<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Keats.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="CA_THE_YOWES" id="CA_THE_YOWES"></a>CA' THE YOWES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ca' them where the heather grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ca' them where the burnie rowes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark the mavis' evening sang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounding Cluden's woods amang!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then a faulding let us gang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We'll gae down by Cluden side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' the hazels spreading wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the waves that sweetly glide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the moon sae clearly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yonder Cluden's silent towers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where at moonshine midnight hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the dewy bending flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fairies dance so cheery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ghaist nor bogie shalt thou fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nocht of ill may come thee near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair and lovely as thou art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast stown my very heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can die&mdash;but canna part&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ca' them where the heather grows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ca' them where the burnie rowes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SELECTIONS_FROM_A_RHYMED_LESSON" id="SELECTIONS_FROM_A_RHYMED_LESSON"></a>SELECTIONS FROM A RHYMED LESSON.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Shalt thou be honest? Ask the worldly schools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all will tell thee knaves are busier fools;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prudent? Industrious? Let not modern pens<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instruct "Poor Richard's" fellow citizens.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Be firm! one constant element in luck<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake's thrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clung to its base, and greets the sunrise still.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Yet in opinions look not always back;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your wake is nothing, mind the coming track;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave what you've done for what you have to do;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don't be "consistent," but be simply true.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Once more; speak clearly, if you speak at all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carve every word before you let it fall;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><span class="i0">Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Try over hard to roll the British R;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do put your accents in the proper spot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don't,&mdash;let me beg you,&mdash;don't say "How?" for "What?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful <i>urs</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 476px;">
+<img src="images/illus083.jpg" width="476" height="640" alt="OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES." title="" />
+<span class="caption">OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_PILGRIM_FATHERS" id="THE_PILGRIM_FATHERS"></a>THE PILGRIM FATHERS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The breaking waves dashed high<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On a stern and rock-bound coast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the woods against a stormy sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their giant branches tossed;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the heavy night hung dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hills and waters o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When a band of exiles moored their bark<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the wild New England shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not as the conqueror comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They, the true-hearted, came;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not with the roll of the stirring drums,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the trumpet that sings of fame;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not as the flying come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In silence and in fear;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shook the depths of the desert gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With their hymns of lofty cheer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Amidst the storm they sang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the stars heard, and the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the anthem of the free!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ocean eagle soared<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From his nest by the white wave's foam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the rocking pines of the forest roared&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This was their welcome home!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There were men with hoary hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amidst that pilgrim band;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why had they come to wither there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Away from their childhood's land?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was woman's fearless eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lit by her deep love's truth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was manhood's brow, serenely high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the fiery heart of youth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What sought they thus afar?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright jewels of the mine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They sought a faith's pure shrine!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ay, call it holy ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The soil where first they trod.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have left unstained what there they found&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Freedom to worship God.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Felicia Hemans.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus085.jpg" width="640" height="377" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus086.jpg" width="640" height="222" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_WIVES_OF_BRIXHAM" id="THE_WIVES_OF_BRIXHAM"></a>THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A True Story.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The merry boats of Brixham<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go out to search the seas;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stanch and sturdy fleet are they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who love a swinging breeze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And before the woods of Devon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the silver cliffs of Wales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You may see, when summer evenings fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The light upon their sails.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when the year grows darker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gray winds hunt the foam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They go back to Little Brixham,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ply their toil at home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus it chanced one winter's night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When a storm began to roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all the men were out at sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all the wives on shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then as the wind grew fiercer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The women's cheeks grew white,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was fiercer in the twilight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fiercest in the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The strong clouds set themselves like ice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Without a star to melt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blackness of the darkness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was darkness to be felt.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The old men they were anxious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They dreaded what they knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What do you think the women did?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Love taught them what to do!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out spake a wife, "We've beds at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll burn them for a light,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give us the men and the bare ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We want no more to-night."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They took the grandame's blanket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who shivered and bade them go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They took the baby's pillow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who could not say them no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they heaped a great fire on the pier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And knew not all the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If they were heaping a bonfire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or only a funeral pile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And fed with precious food, the flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shone bravely on the black,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till a cry rang through the people,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"A boat is coming back!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Staggering dimly through the fog<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come shapes of fear and doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when the first prow strikes the pier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cannot you hear them shout?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then all along the breath of flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dark figures shrieked and ran,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With "Child, here comes your father!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or, "Wife, is this your man?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And faint feet touch the welcome shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wait a little while;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kisses drop from frozen lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too tired to speak or smile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, one by one, they struggled in<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All that the sea would spare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We will not reckon through our tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The names that were not there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But some went home without a bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When all the tale was told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who were too cold with sorrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To know the night was cold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And this is what the men must do<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who work in wind and foam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this is what the women bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who watch for them at home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So when you see a Brixham boat<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go out to face the gales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think of the love that travels<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like light upon her sails.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><i>Selected.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 444px;">
+<img src="images/illus089.jpg" width="444" height="640" alt="ALFRED TENNYSON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ALFRED TENNYSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_LIGHT_BRIGADE" id="THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_LIGHT_BRIGADE"></a>THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Half a league, half a league,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half a league onward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forward the Light Brigade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Charge for the guns!" he said:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Forward the Light Brigade!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was there a man dismayed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not tho' the soldier knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some one had blundered:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs not to make reply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs not to reason why,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs but to do and die:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cannon to right of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cannon to left of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cannon in front of them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Volleyed and thundered;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stormed at with shot and shell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boldly they rode and well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the jaws of Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the mouth of Hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flashed all their sabers bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flashed as they turned in air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sab'ring the gunners there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Charging an army, while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the world wondered:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plunged in the battery smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right thro' the line they broke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cossack and Russian<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reeled from the saber stroke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shattered and sundered.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then they rode back, but not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not the six hundred.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cannon to right of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cannon to left of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cannon behind them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Volleyed and thundered;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stormed at with shot and shell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While horse and hero fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They that had fought so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came thro' the jaws of Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Back from the mouth of Hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All that was left of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Left of six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When can their glory fade?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O the wild charge they made!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the world wondered.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honor the charge they made!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honor the Light Brigade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Noble six hundred!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="THE_ROYAL_GEORGE" id="THE_ROYAL_GEORGE"></a>THE ROYAL GEORGE.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 228px;">
+<img src="images/illus091.jpg" width="228" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 380px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Toll for the brave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brave that are no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All sunk beneath the wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast by their native shore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eight hundred of the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose courage well was tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had made the vessel heel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laid her on her side.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A land breeze shook the shrouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she was overset;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down went the Royal George<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all her crew complete.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Toll for the brave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Kempenfelt is gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His last sea fight is fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His work of glory done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was not in the battle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No tempest gave the shock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sprang no fatal leak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She ran upon no rock.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His sword was in its sheath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His fingers held the pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Kempenfelt went down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With twice four hundred men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Weigh the vessel up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once dreaded by our foes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mingle with our cup<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear that England owes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her timbers yet are sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she may float again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full charged with England's thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plow the distant main:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Kempenfelt is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His victories are o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he and his eight hundred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall plow the wave no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cowper.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CALM_ON_THE_LISTENING_EAR_OF_NIGHT" id="CALM_ON_THE_LISTENING_EAR_OF_NIGHT"></a>CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Calm on the listening ear of night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come heaven's melodious strains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where wild Judea stretches far<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her silver-mantled plains.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Celestial choirs from courts above<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shed sacred glories there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And angels, with their sparkling lyres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make music on the air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The answering hills of Palestine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Send back the glad reply;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And greet, from all their holy heights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Dayspring from on high.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O'er the blue depths of Galilee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There comes a holier calm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sharon waves in solemn praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her silent groves of palm.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Glory to God!" the sounding skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loud with their anthems ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Peace to the earth, good-will to men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From heaven's eternal King!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Savior now is born!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breaks the first Christmas morn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Edmund H. Sears.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="WHEN_WILT_THOU_SAVE_THE_PEOPLE" id="WHEN_WILT_THOU_SAVE_THE_PEOPLE"></a>WHEN WILT THOU SAVE THE PEOPLE?</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When wilt Thou save the people?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O God of mercy, when?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not kings and lords, but nations!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not thrones and crowns, but men!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers of Thy heart, O God, are they;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let them not pass, like weeds, away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their heritage, a sunless day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">God, save the people!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shall crime bring crime forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Strength aiding still the strong?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it Thy will, O Father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That man shall toil for wrong?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, say Thy mountains; No, Thy skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man's clouded sun shall brightly rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And songs ascend, instead of sighs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">God, save the people!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When wilt Thou save the people?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O God of mercy, when?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The people, Lord, the people,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not thrones and crowns, but men!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God save the people; Thine they are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy children, as Thine angels fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From vice, oppression, and despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">God, save the people!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Ebenezer Elliott.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+<h1>THE LAND OF SONG: <span class="smcap">Book II.</span></h1>
+
+<h1><small><i>PART II.</i></small></h1>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 538px;">
+<img src="images/illus096.jpg" width="538" height="800" alt="THE MINUTE MAN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE MINUTE MAN.</span>
+<p class="ralign">DANIEL C. FRENCH.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+<h1><a name="PART_TWO" id="PART_TWO"></a>PART TWO.</h1>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+<h2><a name="UNION_AND_LIBERTY" id="UNION_AND_LIBERTY"></a>UNION AND LIBERTY.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 190px;">
+<img src="images/illus097.jpg" width="190" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flag of the heroes who left us their glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Borne through their battlefields' thunder and flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blazoned in song and illumined in story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Up with our banner bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sprinkled with starry light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While through the sounding sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud rings the Nation's cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty! One evermore!</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pride of her children, and honored afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the wide beams of thy full constellation<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scatter each cloud that would darken a star!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Up with our banner bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sprinkled with starry light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While through the sounding sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud rings the Nation's cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty! One evermore!</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Empire unsceptered! what foe shall assail thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bearing the standard of Liberty's van?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Striving with men for the birthright of man!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Up with our banner bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sprinkled with starry light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While through the sounding sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud rings the Nation's cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty! One evermore!</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then with the arms of thy millions united,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Up with our banner bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sprinkled with starry light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While through the sounding sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud rings the Nation's cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty! One evermore!</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast united us, who shall divide us?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Keep us, O keep us, the <span class="smcap">Many in One</span>!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Up with our banner bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sprinkled with starry light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While through the sounding sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud rings the Nation's cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Union and Liberty! One evermore!</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="SONG_OF_MARIONS_MEN" id="SONG_OF_MARIONS_MEN"></a>SONG OF MARION'S MEN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our band is few, but true and tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our leader frank and bold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The British soldier trembles<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Marion's name is told.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our fortress is the good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our tent the cypress tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know the forest round us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As seamen know the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know its walls of thorny vines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its glades of reedy grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its safe and silent islands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Within the dark morass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Woe to the English soldiery<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That little dread us near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On them shall light at midnight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A strange and sudden fear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, waking to their tents on fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They grasp their arms in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they who stand to face us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are beat to earth again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they who fly in terror deem<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A mighty host behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear the tramp of thousands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon the hollow wind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sweet the hour that brings release<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From danger and from toil:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We talk the battle over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And share the battle's spoil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The woodland rings with laugh and shout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As if a hunt were up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And woodland flowers are gathered<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To crown the soldier's cup.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With merry songs we mock the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That in the pine-top grieves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slumber long and sweetly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On beds of oaken leaves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well knows the fair and friendly moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The band that Marion leads&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glitter of their rifles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The scampering of their steeds.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis life to guide the fiery barb<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Across the moonlight plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis life to feel the night wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lifts his tossing mane.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment in the British camp&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A moment&mdash;and away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the pathless forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Before the peep of day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Grave men there are by broad Santee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grave men with hoary hairs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their hearts are all with Marion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Marion are their prayers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lovely ladies greet our band<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With kindliest welcoming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With smiles like those of summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tears like those of spring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For them we wear these trusty arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lay them down no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till we have driven the Briton,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forever, from our shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="STARS" id="STARS"></a>STARS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They glide upon their endless way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forever calm, forever bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No blind hurry, no delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mark the Daughters of the Night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They follow in the track of Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In divine delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shine on, sweet-orb&egrave;d Souls for aye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forever calm, forever bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We ask not whither lies your way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor whence ye came, nor what your light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be&mdash;still a dream throughout the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A blessing through the night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall).</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="NIGHT" id="NIGHT"></a>NIGHT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun descendeth in the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The evening star does shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The birds are silent in their nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I must seek for mine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The moon, like a flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In heaven's high bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With silent delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sits and smiles on the night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Farewell, green fields and happy groves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where flocks have ta'en delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The feet of angels bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unseen, they pour blessing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And joy without ceasing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On each bud and blossom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And each sleeping bosom.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They look in every thoughtless nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where birds are covered warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They visit caves of every beast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keep them all from harm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If they see any weeping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That should have been sleeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They pour sleep on their head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And sit down by their bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Blake.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;">
+<img src="images/illus102.jpg" width="365" height="336" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC" id="THE_BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC"></a>THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of Nelson and the North<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing the glorious day's renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When to battle fierce came forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the might of Denmark's crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her arms along the deep proudly shone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By each gun the lighted brand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a bold determined hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Prince of all the land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led them on.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like leviathans afloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay their bulwarks on the brine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the sign of battle flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the lofty British line:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was ten of April morn by the chime:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they drifted on their path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was silence deep as death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the boldest held his breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a time.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But the might of England flushed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To anticipate the scene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her van the fleeter rushed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the deadly space between.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hearts of oak!" our captains cried; when each gun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From its adamantine lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spread a death shade round the ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the hurricane eclipse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the sun.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again! again! again!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the havoc did not slack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till a feeble cheer the Dane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To our cheering sent us back;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their shots along the deep slowly boom:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then cease&mdash;and all is wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they strike the shattered sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, in conflagration pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light the gloom.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now joy, Old England, raise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the tidings of thy might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the festal cities' blaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst the wine cup shines in light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet amidst that joy and uproar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us think of them that sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full many a fathom deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy wild and stormy steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elsinore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE" id="HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE"></a>HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How sleep the brave who sink to rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By all their Country's wishes blest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Returns to deck their hallowed mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She there shall dress a sweeter sod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By fairy hands their knell is rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By forms unseen their dirge is sung:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Freedom shall awhile repair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dwell a weeping hermit there!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Collins.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="LLEWELLYN_AND_HIS_DOG" id="LLEWELLYN_AND_HIS_DOG"></a>LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The spearmen heard the bugle sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cheer'ly smiled the morn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a dog, and many a hound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Attend Llewellyn's horn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And still he blew a louder blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gave a louder cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come, Gelert! why art thou the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Llewellyn's horn to hear?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flower of all his race?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So true, so brave&mdash;a lamb at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A lion in the chase."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That day Llewellyn little loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The chase of hart or hare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scant and small the booty proved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Gelert was not there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When, near the portal seat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His truant Gelert he espied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bounding his lord to greet.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when he gained the castle door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aghast the chieftain stood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hound was smeared with gouts of gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His lips and fangs ran blood!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unused such looks to meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His fav'rite checked his joyful guise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And crouched, and licked his feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Onward in haste Llewellyn passed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(And on went Gelert too),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still, where'er his eyes were cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fresh blood gouts shocked his view.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O'erturned his infant's bed he found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bloodstained cover rent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all around the walls and ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With recent blood besprent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He called his child&mdash;no voice replied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He searched with terror wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood! blood! he found on every side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But nowhere found his child!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hell-hound! by thee my child's devoured!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The frantic father cried;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the hilt his vengeful sword<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He plunged in Gelert's side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His suppliant, as to earth he fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No pity could impart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still his Gelert's dying yell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Passed heavy o'er his heart.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some slumberer wakened nigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What words the parent's joy can tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hear his infant cry!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Concealed beneath a mangled heap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His hurried search had missed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All glowing from his rosy sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His cherub boy he kissed!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the same couch beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tremendous still in death!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For now the truth was clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant hound the wolf had slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To save Llewellyn's heir.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Best of thy kind, adieu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frantic deed which laid thee low<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This heart shall ever rue!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now a gallant tomb they raised,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With costly sculpture decked;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marbles storied with his praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Poor Gelert's bones protect.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here never could the spearman pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or forester, unmoved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Llewellyn's sorrow proved.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And here he hung his horn and spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And oft, as evening fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In fancy's piercing sounds would hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Poor Gelert's dying yell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Southey.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="FIDELITY" id="FIDELITY"></a>FIDELITY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A barking sound the shepherd hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cry as of a dog or fox;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He halts&mdash;and searches with his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the scattered rocks:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now at distance can discern<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stirring in a brake of fern;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And instantly a dog is seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glancing through that covert green.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dog is not of mountain breed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its motions, too, are wild and shy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With something, as the shepherd thinks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unusual in its cry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor is there anyone in sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All round, in hollow or on height;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is the creature doing here?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a cove, a huge recess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That keeps, till June, December's snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lofty precipice in front,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silent tarn below!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remote from public road or dwelling,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pathway, or cultivated land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From trace of human foot or hand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There sometimes doth a leaping fish<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crags repeat the raven's croak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In symphony austere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither the rainbow comes&mdash;the cloud&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mists that spread the flying shroud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, if it could, would hurry past;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that enormous barrier holds it fast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not free from boding thoughts, a while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shepherd stood; then makes his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er rocks and stones, following the dog<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As quickly as he may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor far had gone before he found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A human skeleton on the ground;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The appalled discoverer with a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looks round, to learn the history.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From those abrupt and perilous rocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The man had fallen, that place of fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length upon the shepherd's mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It breaks, and all is clear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He instantly recalled the name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who he was, and whence he came;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembered, too, the very day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which the traveler passed this way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But hear a wonder, for whose sake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This lamentable tale I tell!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lasting monument of words<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This wonder merits well.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dog, which still was hovering nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repeating the same timid cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This dog, had been through three months' space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dweller in that savage place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, proof was plain that, since the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When this ill-fated traveler died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dog had watched about the spot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or by his master's side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How nourished here through such long time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knows, who gave that love sublime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gave that strength of feeling, great<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above all human estimate!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER" id="ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER"></a>ON THE GRASSHOPPER
+AND CRICKET.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/illus110.jpg" width="235" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The poetry of earth is never dead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is the grasshopper's&mdash;he takes the lead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In summer luxury,&mdash;he has never done<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With his delights, for when tired out with fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The poetry of earth is ceasing never:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On a lone winter evening, when the frost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Keats.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER_AND_CRICKET" id="ON_THE_GRASSHOPPER_AND_CRICKET"></a>ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Catching your heart up at the feel of June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you, warm little housekeeper, who class<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With those who think the candles come too soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loving the fire and with your tricksome tune<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One to the fields, the other to the hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both have your sunshine; both, though small are strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At your dear hearts; and both were sent on earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Indoors and out, summer and winter, mirth!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus112.jpg" width="640" height="395" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="EPITAPH" id="EPITAPH"></a>EPITAPH ON A HARE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor swifter greyhound follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who, nursed with tender care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to domestic bounds confined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was still a wild Jack hare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though duly from my hand he took<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His pittance every night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He did it with a jealous look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, when he could, would bite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His diet was of wheaten bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And milk, and oats, and straw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thistles, or lettuces instead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With sand to scour his maw.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On pippin's russet peel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when his juicy salads failed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sliced carrot pleased him well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Turkey carpet was his lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whereon he loved to bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To skip and gambol like a fawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And swing himself around.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His frisking was at evening hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For then he lost his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most before approaching showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or when a storm drew near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eight years and five round-rolling moons<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He thus saw steal away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dozing out all his idle noons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And every night at play.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I kept him for his humor's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he would oft beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart of thoughts that made it ache,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And force me to a smile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now, beneath this walnut shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He finds his long last home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waits, in snug concealment laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till gentler Puss shall come.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He, still more aged, feels the shocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From which no care can save,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, partner once of Tiney's box,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must soon partake his grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cowper.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_COUNCIL_OF_HORSES" id="THE_COUNCIL_OF_HORSES"></a>THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Upon a time a neighing steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who grazed among a numerous breed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With mutiny had fired the train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spread dissension through the plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On matters that concerned the state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The council met in grand debate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A colt whose eyeballs flamed with ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elate with strength and youthful fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In haste stept forth before the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus the listening throng addressed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Goodness, how abject is our race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Condemned to slavery and disgrace!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we our servitude retain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because our sires have borne the chain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Consider, friends! your strength and might;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis conquest to assert your right.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How cumbrous is the gilded coach!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pride of man is our reproach.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were we designed for daily toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drag the plowshare through the soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sweat in harness through the road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To groan beneath the carrier's load?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How feeble are the two-legg'd kind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What force is in our nerves combined!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall then our nobler jaws submit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To foam and champ the galling bit?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall haughty man my back bestride?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forbid it, heavens! reject the rein;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your shame, your infamy, disdain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let him the lion first control,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still the tiger's famished growl.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us, like them, our freedom claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make him tremble at our name."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A general nod approved the cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the circle neighed applause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, lo! with grave and solemn pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A steed advanced before the race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With age and long experience wise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to the murmurs of the train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"When I had health and strength like you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The toils of servitude I knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now grateful man rewards my pains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gives me all these wide domains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At will I crop the year's increase;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My latter life is rest and peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I grant, to man we lend our pains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aid him to correct the plains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But doth he not divide the care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through all the labors of the year?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How many thousand structures rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fence us from inclement skies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For us he bears the sultry day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stores up all our winter's hay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We share the toil and share the grain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since every creature was decreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To aid each other's mutual need,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appease your discontented mind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And act the part by heaven assigned."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tumult ceased, the colt submitted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, like his ancestors, was bitted.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Gay.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus116.jpg" width="640" height="386" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="RUTH" id="RUTH"></a>RUTH.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She stood breast high amid the corn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clasped by the golden light of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the sweetheart of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who many a glowing kiss had won.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On her cheek an autumn flush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deeply ripened;&mdash;such a blush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the midst of brown was born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like red poppies grown with corn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Round her eyes her tresses fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which were blackest none could tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But long lashes veiled a light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That had else been all too bright.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And her hat, with shady brim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made her tressy forehead dim;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus she stood amid the stocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Praising God with sweetest looks:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sure, I said, heav'n did not mean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay thy sheaf adown and come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Share my harvest and my home.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Hood.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_ELIXIR" id="THE_ELIXIR"></a>THE ELIXIR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Teach me, my God and King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all things Thee to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what I do in anything,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To do it as for Thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">All may of Thee partake:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nothing can be so mean<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which with this tincture, for Thy sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will not grow bright and clean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A servant with this clause<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Makes drudgery divine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Makes that and the action fine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">This is the famous stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That turneth all to gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that which God doth touch and own<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cannot for less be told.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">George Herbert.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_BOY_AND_THE_ANGEL" id="THE_BOY_AND_THE_ANGEL"></a>THE BOY AND THE ANGEL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Morning, evening, noon, and night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Praise God!" sang Theocrite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then to his poor trade he turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby the daily meal was earned.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hard he labored, long and well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er his work the boy's curls fell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But ever, at each period,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stopped and sang, "Praise God!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then back again his curls he threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cheerful turned to work anew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I doubt not thou art heard, my son:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As well as if thy voice to-day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were praising God, the Pope's great way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Praises God from Peter's dome."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Said Theocrite, "Would God that I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might praise Him that great way, and die!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Night passed, day shone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Theocrite was gone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With God a day endures alway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand years are but a day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now brings the voice of my delight."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spread his wings and sank to earth;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lived there, and played the craftsman well;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And morning, evening, noon, and night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Praised God in place of Theocrite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And from a boy, to youth he grew:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The man put off the stripling's hue:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The man matured and fell away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the season of decay:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And ever o'er the trade he bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever lived on earth content.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(He lived God's will; to him, all one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If on the earth or in the sun.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">God said, "A praise is in mine ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is no doubt in it, no fear:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So sing old worlds, and so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New worlds that from my footstool go.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Clearer loves sound other ways:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I miss my little human praise."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flesh disguise, remained the cell.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And paused above Saint Peter's dome.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the tiring-room close by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great outer gallery,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With his holy vestments dight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood the new Pope Theocrite:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And all his past career<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came back upon him clear,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till on his life the sickness weighed;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And in his cell, when death drew near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An angel in a dream brought cheer:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, rising from the sickness drear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He grew a priest, and now stood here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the East with praise he turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on his sight the angel burned.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And set thee here; I did not well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Vainly I left my angel sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vain was thy dream of many a year.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creation's chorus stopped!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Go back and praise again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The early way, while I remain.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"With that weak voice of our disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take up creation's pausing strain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Back to the cell and poor employ:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resume the craftsman and the boy!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Theocrite grew old at home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One vanished as the other died:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sought God side by side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD" id="THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD"></a>THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They grew in beauty, side by side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They filled one home with glee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their graves are severed far and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By mount, and stream, and sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The same fond mother bent at night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er each fair, sleeping brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She had each folded flower in sight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where are those sleepers now?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One, midst the forest of the West,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By a dark stream is laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Indian knows his place of rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far in the cedar shade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He lies where pearls lie deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was the loved of all, yet none<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er his low bed may weep.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One sleeps where southern vines are dressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the noble slain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wrapped the colors round his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On a blood-red field of Spain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And one&mdash;o'er her the myrtle showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its leaves by soft winds fanned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She faded midst Italian flowers&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The last of that fair band.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And parted thus, they rest who played<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath the same green tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose voices mingled as they prayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Around one parent knee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They that with smiles lit up the hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cheered with song the hearth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas for love! if thou wert all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And nought beyond, O earth!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Felicia Dorothea Hemans.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus122.jpg" width="640" height="359" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus123.jpg" width="480" height="523" alt="WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT." title="" />
+<span class="caption">WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_EVENING_WIND" id="THE_EVENING_WIND"></a>THE EVENING WIND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor I alone&mdash;a thousand bosoms round<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Inhale thee in the fullness of delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, rock the little wood bird in his nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wide old wood from his majestic rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Summoning from the innumerable boughs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The faint old man shall lean his silver head<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dry the moistened curls that overspread<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they who stand about the sick man's bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And softly part his curtains to allow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go&mdash;but the circle of eternal change,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which is the life of nature, shall restore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet odors in the sea air, sweet and strange,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="SOUND_THE_LOUD_TIMBREL" id="SOUND_THE_LOUD_TIMBREL"></a>SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jehovah has triumphed,&mdash;His people are free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing,&mdash;for the pride of the tyrant is broken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jehovah has triumphed,&mdash;His people are free!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His word was our arrow, His breath was our sword.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who shall return to tell Egypt the story<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jehovah hath triumphed,&mdash;His people are free!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Moore.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHORAL_SONG_OF_ILLYRIAN_PEASANTS" id="CHORAL_SONG_OF_ILLYRIAN_PEASANTS"></a>CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN PEASANTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up! up! ye dames, ye lasses gay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the meadows trip away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scare the small birds from the corn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not a soul at home may stay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the shepherds must go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With lance and bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave the hearth and leave the house<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the cricket and the mouse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Find grannam out a sunny seat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With babe and lambkin at her feet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not a soul at home may stay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the shepherds must go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With lance and bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="KING_JOHN_AND_THE_ABBOT_OF" id="KING_JOHN_AND_THE_ABBOT_OF"></a>KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF
+CANTERBURY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An ancient story I'll tell you anon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a notable prince, that was called King John;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he ruled England with main and with might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he did great wrong and maintained little right.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How for his housekeeping and high renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They rode post for him to fair London town.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An hundred men, the king did hear say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Abbot kept in his house every day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How now, father Abbot, I hear it of thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou keepest a far better house than me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for thy housekeeping and high renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear thou work'st treason against my crown."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My liege," quoth the Abbot, "I would it were known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never spend nothing but what is my own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I trust your Grace will do me no deere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For spending of my own true gotten geere."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 619px;">
+<img src="images/illus127.jpg" width="619" height="480" alt="KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY." title="" />
+<span class="caption">KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now for the same thou needest must die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For except thou canst answer me questions three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And first," quoth the king, "when I'm in this stead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With my crown of gold so fair on my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Secondly tell me, without any doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How soon I may ride the whole world about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the third question thou must not shrink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But tell me here truly what I do think."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if you will give me but three weeks' space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll do my endeavor to answer your Grace."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that is the longest time thou hast to live;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if thou dost not answer my questions three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy land and thy livings are forfeit to me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But never a doctor there was so wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That could with his learning an answer devise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then home rode the Abbot of comfort so cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he met his shepherd a-going to fold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"How now, my lord Abbot, you are welcome home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What news do you bring us from good King John?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I have but three days more to live;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if I do not answer him questions three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My head will be smitten from my bodie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The first is to tell him there in that stead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his crown of gold so fair on his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among all his liegemen so noble of birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To within one penny of what he is worth.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The second to tell him without any doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How soon he may ride this whole world about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the third question I must not shrink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But tell him there truly what he does think."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now cheer up, sir Abbot, did you never hear yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am like your lordship as ever may be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if you will but lend me your gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is none shall know us in fair London town."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now horses and serving men thou shalt have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sumptuous array most gallant and brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit to appear 'fore our father the Pope."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now welcome, sir Abbot," the king he did say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For and if thou canst answer my questions three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With my crown of gold so fair on my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell me to one penny what I am worth."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For thirty pence our Savior was sold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the false Jews, as I have been told:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I think thou art one penny worser than he."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The King he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I did not think I had been worth so little!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How soon I may ride this whole world about."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the next morning he riseth again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then your Grace need not make any doubt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The King he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I did not think it could be gone so soon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now from the third question thou must not shrink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But tell me here truly what do I think."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yea, that I shall do and make your Grace merry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That am come to beg pardon for him and for me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The King he laughed, and swore by the mass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, nay, my liege, be not in such speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For alack, I can neither write nor read."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell the old Abbot, when thou com'st home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Percy.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="TO_THE_SMALL_CELANDINE" id="TO_THE_SMALL_CELANDINE"></a>TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let them live upon their praises;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long as there's a sun that sets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Primroses will have their glory;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long as there are violets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They will have a place in story:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's a flower that shall be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis the little Celandine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eyes of some men travel far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the finding of a star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up and down the heavens they go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men that keep a mighty rout!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm as great as they, I trow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since the day I found thee out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little flower!&mdash;I'll make a stir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a sage astronomer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Modest, yet withal an elf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bold, and lavish of thyself;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since we needs must first have met<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have seen thee, high and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thirty years or more, and yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas a face I did not know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast now, go where I may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fifty greetings in a day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ere a leaf is on a bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the time before the thrush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has a thought about her nest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wilt come with half a call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spreading out thy glossy breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a careless prodigal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Telling tales about the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we've little warmth, or none.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poets, vain men in their mood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Travel with the multitude:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never heed them; I aver<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they are all wanton wooers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the thrifty cottager,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who stirs little out of doors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joys to spy thee near her home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spring is coming, thou art come!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Comfort have thou of thy merit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindly, unassuming spirit!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless of thy neighborhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou dost show thy pleasant face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the moor, and in the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the lane;&mdash;there's not a place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Howsoever mean it be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But 'tis good enough for thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ill befall the yellow flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children of the flaring hours!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buttercups, that will be seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether we will see or no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others, too, of lofty mien;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have done as worldlings do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taken praise that should be thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little, humble Celandine!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Prophet of delight and mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ill requited upon earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Herald of a mighty band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a joyous train ensuing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Serving at my heart's command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tasks that are no tasks renewing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will sing, as doth behove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hymns in praise, of what I love!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_BELEAGUERED_CITY" id="THE_BELEAGUERED_CITY"></a>THE BELEAGUERED CITY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have read, in some old, marvelous tale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some legend strange and vague,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a midnight host of specters pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beleaguered the walls of Prague.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the wan moon overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There stood, as in an awful dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The army of the dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">White as a sea fog, landward bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spectral camp was seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The river flowed between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No other voice nor sound was there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No drum, nor sentry's pace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mistlike banners clasped the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As clouds with clouds embrace.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, when the old cathedral bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Proclaimed the morning prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The white pavilions rose and fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the alarm&egrave;d air.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 474px;">
+<img src="images/illus134.jpg" width="474" height="640" alt="HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW." title="" />
+<span class="caption">HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down the broad valley, fast and far<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The troubled army fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up rose the glorious morning star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The ghastly host was dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have read, in the marvelous heart of man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That strange and mystic scroll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That an army of phantoms vast and wan<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beleaguer the human soul.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Fancy's misty light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Portentous through the night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upon its midnight battle ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spectral camp is seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flows the River of Life between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No other voice, nor sound is there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the army of the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No other challenge breaks the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the rushing of Life's wave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, when the solemn and deep church bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Entreats the soul to pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The midnight phantoms feel the spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The shadows sweep away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down the broad Vale of Tears afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spectral camp is fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faith shineth as a morning star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our ghastly fears are dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SAILORS_WIFE" id="THE_SAILORS_WIFE"></a>THE SAILOR'S WIFE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And are ye sure the news is true?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And are ye sure he's weel?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is this a time to think o' wark?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye jades, lay by your wheel;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><span class="i0">Is this the time to spin a thread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Colin's at the door?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And see him come ashore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For there's nae luck about the house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There's nae luck at a';<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's little pleasure in the house<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When our gudeman's awa.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And gie to me my bigonet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My bishop's satin gown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I maun tell the baillie's wife<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That Colin's in the town.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Turkey slippers maun gae on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My stockins pearly blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he's baith leal and true.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Put on the muckle pot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gie little Kate her button gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Jock his Sunday coat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mak their shoon as black as slaes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their hose as white as snaw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It's a' to please my ain gudeman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he's been long awa.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There's twa fat hens upo' the coop<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Benn fed this month and mair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mak haste and thraw their necks about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That Colin weel may fare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spread the table neat and clean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gar ilka thing look braw,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span><span class="i0">For wha can tell how Colin fared<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When he was far awa?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His breath like caller air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His very foot has music in't<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As he comes up the stair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will I see his face again?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And will I hear him speak?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In troth I'm like to greet!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If Colin's well, and weel content,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I hae nae mair to crave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gin I live to keep him sae,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'm blest aboon the lave:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will I see his face again?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And will I hear him speak?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In troth I'm like to greet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For there's nae luck about the house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There's nae luck at a';<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's little pleasure in the house<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When our gudeman's awa.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William J. Mickle.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SOLDIER_AND_SAILOR" id="SOLDIER_AND_SAILOR"></a>SOLDIER AND SAILOR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I love contemplating, apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From all his homicidal glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The traits that soften to our heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Napoleon's story!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas when his banners at Boulogne<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Armed in our island every freeman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His navy chanced to capture one<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Poor British seaman.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus138.jpg" width="480" height="633" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They suffered him, I know not how,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unprisoned on the shore to roam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aye was bent his longing brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On England's home.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His eye, methinks, pursued the flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of birds to Britain halfway over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With envy; <i>they</i> could reach the white<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear cliffs of Dover.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A stormy midnight watch, he thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than this sojourn would have been dearer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If but the storm his vessel brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To England nearer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At last, when care had banished sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He saw one morning&mdash;dreaming&mdash;doating,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An empty hogshead from the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come shoreward floating;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He hid it in a cave, and wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The livelong day laborious; lurking<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until he launched a tiny boat<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By mighty working.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heaven help us! 'Twas a thing beyond<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Description, wretched: such a wherry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or crossed a ferry.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For plowing in the salt sea field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It would have made the boldest shudder;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No sail&mdash;no rudder.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From neighb'ring woods he interlaced<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His sorry skiff with wattled willows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus equipped he would have passed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The foaming billows&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Frenchmen caught him on the beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His little Argo sorely jeering;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till tidings of him chanced to reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Napoleon's hearing.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With folded arms Napoleon stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Serene alike in peace and danger;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, in his wonted attitude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Addressed the stranger:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy heart with some sweet British lass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must be impassioned."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I have no sweetheart," said the lad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"But&mdash;absent long from one another&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great was the longing that I had<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see my mother."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And so thou shalt," Napoleon said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Ye've both my favor fairly won;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A noble mother must have bred<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So brave a son."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He gave the tar a piece of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, with a flag of truce, commanded<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He should be shipped to England Old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And safely landed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our sailor oft could scantly shift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To find a dinner, plain and hearty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But <i>never</i> changed the coin and gift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Bonapart&eacute;.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_BATTLE_OF_BLENHEIM" id="THE_BATTLE_OF_BLENHEIM"></a>THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a summer's evening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Kaspar's work was done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he before his cottage door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was sitting in the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by him sported on the green<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His little grandchild Wilhelmine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She saw her brother Peterkin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roll something large and round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which he beside the rivulet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In playing there, had found.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He came to ask what he had found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was so large, and smooth, and round.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Kaspar took it from the boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who stood expectant by;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then the old man shook his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, with a natural sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Who fell in the great victory!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I find them in the garden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For there's many here about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And often when I go to plow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The plowshare turns them out;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many thousand men," said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Were slain in that great victory!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now, tell us what 'twas all about,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Peterkin he cries;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And little Wilhelmine looks up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wonder-waiting eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now tell us all about the war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what they killed each other for."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was the English," Kaspar cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Who put the French to rout;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what they killed each other for<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I could not well make out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But everybody said," quoth he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"That 'twas a famous victory!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My father lived at Blenheim then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon little stream hard by;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They burned his dwelling to the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was forced to fly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So with his wife and child he fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor had he where to rest his head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"With fire and sword the country round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was wasted far and wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a childing mother then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And new-born baby died.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But things, like that, you know, must be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At every famous victory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They say it was a shocking sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After the field was won;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many thousand bodies here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay rotting in the sun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But things like that, you know, must be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After a famous victory.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our good Prince Eugene."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said little Wilhelmine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It was a famous victory!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And everybody praised the Duke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who this great fight did win."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"But what good came of it at last?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth little Peterkin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"But 'twas a famous victory!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Southey.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_REVENGE" id="THE_REVENGE"></a>THE REVENGE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still could sting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So they watched what the end would be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we had not fought them in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in perilous plight were we,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half of the rest of us maimed for life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As may never be fought again!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We have won great glory, my men!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a day less or more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At sea or ashore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We die&mdash;does it matter when?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sink me the ship, Master Gunner&mdash;sink her, split her in twain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"We have children, we have wives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Lord hath spared our lives.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he fell upon their decks, and he died.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>The Revenge</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="HALLOWED_GROUND" id="HALLOWED_GROUND"></a>HALLOWED GROUND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its maker meant not should be trod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By man, the image of his God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Erect and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unscourged by Superstition's rod<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To bow the knee?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That's hallowed ground&mdash;where, mourned and missed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lips repose our love has kissed:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But where's their memory's mansion? Is't<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yon churchyard's bowers?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No! in ourselves their souls exist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A part of ours.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What hallows ground where heroes sleep?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dews that heavens far distant weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their turf may bloom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Genii twine beneath the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their coral tomb:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But strew his ashes to the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose sword or voice has served mankind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And is he dead, whose glorious mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lifts thine on high?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live in hearts we leave behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is not to die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is't death to fall for Freedom's right?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's dead alone that lacks her light!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And murder sullies in Heaven's sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sword he draws:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What can alone ennoble fight?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A noble cause!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Earth's compass round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And your high priesthood shall make earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>All hallowed ground</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus146.jpg" width="640" height="372" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP" id="INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP"></a>INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You know we French stormed Ratisbon:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A mile or so away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a little mound, Napoleon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stood on our storming-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With neck out thrust, you fancy how,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Legs wide, arms locked behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if to balance the prone brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oppressive with its mind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That soar, to earth may fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let once my army leader Lannes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Waver at yonder wall,&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A rider, bound on bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full galloping; nor bridle drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until he reached the mound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then off there flung in smiling joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And held himself erect<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By just his horse's mane, a boy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You hardly could suspect&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(So tight he kept his lips compressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scarce any blood came through),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You looked twice ere you saw his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was all but shot in two.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We've got you Ratisbon!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Marshal's in the market place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And you'll be there anon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see your flag-bird flap his vans<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where I, to heart's desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soared up again like fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The chief's eye flashed; but presently<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Softened itself, as sheathes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A film the mother eagle's eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When her bruised eaglet breathes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Touched to the quick, he said:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiling, the boy fell dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THY_VOICE_IS_HEARD_THRO_ROLLING" id="THY_VOICE_IS_HEARD_THRO_ROLLING"></a>THY VOICE IS HEARD THRO' ROLLING
+DRUMS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That beat to battle where he stands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy face across his fancy comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gives the battle to his hands:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment, while the trumpets blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sees his brood about thy knee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The next, like fire he meets the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And strikes him dead for thine and thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="QUIET_LORD_MY_FROWARD_HEART" id="QUIET_LORD_MY_FROWARD_HEART"></a>QUIET, LORD, MY FROWARD HEART.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Quiet, Lord, my froward heart:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make me teachable and mild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upright, simple, free from art,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make me as a wean&egrave;d child:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From distrust and envy free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased with all that pleaseth Thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What Thou shalt to-day provide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me as a child receive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What to-morrow may betide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calmly to Thy wisdom leave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis enough that Thou wilt care:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should I the burden bear?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a little child relies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a care beyond his own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knows he's neither strong nor wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fears to stir a step alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me thus with Thee abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As my Father, Guard, and Guide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Newton.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="MORNING" id="MORNING"></a>MORNING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! timely happy, timely wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearts that with rising morn arise!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyes that the beam celestial view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which evermore makes all things new!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">New every morning is the love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our wakening and uprising prove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through sleep and darkness safely brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Restored to life, and power, and thought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">New mercies, each returning day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hover around us while we pray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New perils past, new sins forgiven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Keble.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="EVENING" id="EVENING"></a>EVENING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shepherds all, and maidens fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fold your flocks up, for the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Gins to thicken, and the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already his great course has run.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See the dewdrops how they kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every little flower that is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hanging on their velvet heads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a rope of crystal beads.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See the heavy clouds low falling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bright Hesperus down calling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dead night from underground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At whose rising, mists unsound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Damps and vapors fly apace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hovering o'er the wanton face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these pastures, where they come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Striking dead both bud and bloom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore from such danger lock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every one of his loved flock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let your dogs lie loose without,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the wolf come, as a scout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the mountain, and ere day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bear a kid or lamb away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the crafty thievish fox<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Break upon your simple flocks.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To secure yourselves from these,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be not too secure in ease.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So shall you good shepherds prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deserve your master's love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, good night! may sweetest slumbers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soft silence fall in numbers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On your eyelids; so, farewell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus I end my evening knell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Fletcher.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Orpheus with his lute made trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the mountain tops that freeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bow themselves when he did sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To his music, plants and flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever sprung; as sun and showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There had made a lasting spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Everything that heard him play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even the billows of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hung their heads, and then lay by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sweet music is such art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Killing care and grief of heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus152.jpg" width="640" height="469" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="FAREWELL" id="FAREWELL"></a>A FAREWELL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy tribute wave deliver:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever and for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A rivulet, then a river:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever and for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But here will sigh thine alder tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here thine aspen shiver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here by thee will hum the bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever and for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A thousand suns will stream on thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A thousand moons will quiver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever and for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="TO_A_MOUSE" id="TO_A_MOUSE"></a>TO A MOUSE.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">On Turning Her up in Her Nest with the Plow.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;">
+<img src="images/illus153.jpg" width="229" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, what a panic's in thy breastie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou need na start awa sae hasty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Wi' bickering brattle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Wi' murd'ring pattle!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm truly sorry man's dominion<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has broken nature's social union,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' justifies that ill opinion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Which makes thee startle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At me, thy poor earthborn companion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">An' fellow mortal!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A daimen icker in a thrave<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">'S a sma' request:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And never miss't!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' naething, now, to big a new ane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">O' foggage green!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' bleak December's winds ensuin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Baith snell and keen!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' weary winter comin' fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' cozie here, beneath the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Thou thought to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, crash! the cruel coulter past<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Out thro' thy cell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But house or hald,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thole the winter's sleety dribble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">An' cranreuch cauld!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In proving foresight may be vain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The best laid schemes o' mice an' men<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Gang aft a-gley,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">For promis'd joy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The present only toucheth thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, och! I backward cast my e'e,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">On prospects drear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' forward, tho' I canna see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">I guess an' fear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus155.jpg" width="640" height="399" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="PILGRIMAGE" id="PILGRIMAGE"></a>A SELECTION FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S
+PILGRIMAGE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is a rapture on the lonely shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is society where none intrudes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love not man the less, but Nature more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From these our interviews, in which I steal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From all I may be, or have been before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mingle with the Universe, and feel<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean&mdash;roll!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man marks the earth with ruin&mdash;his control<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stops with the shore;&mdash;upon the watery plain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When for a moment, like a drop of rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The armaments which thunderstrike the walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And monarchs tremble in their capitals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their clay creator the vain title take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy waters washed them power while they were free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a tyrant since: their shores obey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has dried up realms to deserts:&mdash;not so thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glasses itself in tempests; in all time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calm or convulsed&mdash;in breeze, or gale, or storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark-heaving;&mdash;boundless, endless, and sublime&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The image of Eternity&mdash;the throne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The monsters of the deep are made; each zone<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wantoned with thy breakers&mdash;they to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were a delight; and if the freshening sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made them a terror&mdash;'twas a pleasing fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I was as it were a child of thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trusted to thy billows far and near,<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">And laid my hand upon thy mane&mdash;as I do here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="BRIGHTEST_AND_BEST_OF_THE_SONS_OF" id="BRIGHTEST_AND_BEST_OF_THE_SONS_OF"></a>BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF
+THE MORNING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Star of the East, the horizon adorning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Odors of Edom and offerings divine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vainly we offer each ample oblation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Vainly with gifts would His favor secure:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Richer by far is the heart's adoration;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Star of the East, the horizon adorning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Reginald Heber.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+<h1>THE LAND OF SONG: <span class="smcap">Book II.</span></h1>
+
+<h1><small><i>PART III.</i></small></h1>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 800px;">
+<img src="images/illus160.jpg" width="800" height="521" alt="CONCORD BRIDGE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">CONCORD BRIDGE.</span>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PART_THREE" id="PART_THREE"></a>PART THREE.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONCORD_HYMN" id="CONCORD_HYMN"></a>CONCORD HYMN.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument, April 19, 1836.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the rude bridge that arched the flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here once the embattled farmers stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fired the shot heard round the world.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The foe long since in silence slept;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Time the ruined bridge has swept<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On this green bank, by this soft stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We set to-day a votive stone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That memory may their deed redeem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When, like our sires, our sons are gone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spirit, that made those heroes dare<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To die, and leave their children free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bid Time and Nature gently spare<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The shaft we raise to them and thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Ralph Waldo Emerson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="MONTEREY" id="MONTEREY"></a>MONTEREY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We were not many&mdash;we who stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Before the iron sleet that day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet many a gallant spirit would<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give half his years if he but could<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have been with us at Monterey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now here, now there, the shot, it hailed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In deadly drifts of fiery spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not a single soldier quailed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When wounded comrades round them wailed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their dying shout at Monterey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And on&mdash;still on our column kept<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through walls of flame its withering way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where fell the dead, the living stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still charging on the guns that swept<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The slippery streets of Monterey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The foe himself recoiled aghast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When, striking where he strongest lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We swooped his flanking batteries past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And braving full their murderous blast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stormed home the towers of Monterey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our banners on those turrets wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And there our evening bugles play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where orange boughs above their grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep green the memory of the brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who fought and fell at Monterey.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are not many&mdash;we who pressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the brave who fell that day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who of us has not confessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'd rather share their warrior rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than not have been at Monterey?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Charles Fenno Hoffman.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND" id="YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND"></a>YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye mariners of England<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That guard our native seas!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The battle and the breeze!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your glorious standard launch again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To match another foe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweep through the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The spirits of your fathers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall start from every wave&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the deck it was their field of fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Ocean was their grave:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your manly hearts shall glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As ye sweep through the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Britannia needs no bulwarks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No towers along the steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her march is o'er the mountain waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her home is on the deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thunders from her native oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She quells the floods below&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they roar on the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The meteor flag of England<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall yet terrific burn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till danger's troubled night depart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the star of peace return.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, then, ye ocean warriors!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our song and feast shall flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the fame of your name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the storm has ceased to blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the fiery fight is heard no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the storm has ceased to blow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus165.jpg" width="480" height="583" alt="ADMIRAL HORATIO NELSON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ADMIRAL HORATIO NELSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_NELSON" id="THE_DEATH_OF_NELSON"></a>THE DEATH OF NELSON.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas in Trafalgar's bay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We saw the Frenchmen lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each heart was bounding then.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We scorned the foreign yoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ships were British oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hearts of oak our men.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span><span class="i0">Our Nelson marked them on the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three cheers our gallant seamen gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor thought of home and beauty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the line this signal ran,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"England expects that every man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This day will do his duty."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now the cannons roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the affrighted shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brave Nelson led the way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ship the Victory named;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long be that victory famed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For victory crowned the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But dearly was that conquest bought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too well the gallant hero fought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For England, home, and beauty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cried, as 'midst the fire he ran,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"England shall find that every man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This day will do his duty!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At last the fatal wound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which shed dismay around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hero's breast received.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Heaven fights on our side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day's our own!" he cried;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now long enough I've lived.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In honor's cause my life was passed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In honor's cause I fall at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For England, home, and beauty!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus ending life as he began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">England confessed that every man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That day had done his duty.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Arnold.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus167.jpg" width="480" height="625" alt="CHARLES KINGSLEY." title="" />
+<span class="caption">CHARLES KINGSLEY.</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="ODE" id="ODE"></a>ODE TO THE NORTHEAST WIND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Welcome, wild Northeaster!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shame it is to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Odes to every zephyr;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ne'er a verse to thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Welcome, black Northeaster!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er the German foam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the Danish moorlands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From thy frozen home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired we are of summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tired of gaudy glare,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showers soft and steaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hot and breathless air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired of listless dreaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the lazy day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jovial wind of winter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Turn us out to play!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweep the golden reed beds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crisp the lazy dike;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunger into madness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every plunging pike.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fill the lake with wild fowl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fill the marsh with snipe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on dreary moorlands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lonely curlew pipe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the black fir forest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thunder harsh and dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shattering down the snowflakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Off the curdled sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! the brave Northeaster!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breast high lies the scent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On by bolt and headland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over heath and bent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chime, ye dappled darlings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the sleet and snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can override you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the horses go!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chime, ye dappled darlings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down the roaring blast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You shall see a fox die<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere an hour be past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go! and rest to-morrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hunting in your dreams,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While our skates are ringing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er the frozen streams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the luscious South wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breathe in lovers' sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the lazy gallants<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bask in ladies' eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What does he but soften<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heart alike and pen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis the hard gray weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breeds hard English men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What's the soft Southwester?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis the ladies' breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bringing home their true loves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of all the seas;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the black Northeaster,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the snowstorm hurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drives our English hearts of oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seaward round the world!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come! as came our fathers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heralded by thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conquering from the eastward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lords by land and sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come! and strong within us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stir the Vikings' blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bracing brain and sinew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blow, thou wind of God!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="ENGLAND" id="ENGLAND"></a>ENGLAND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This other Eden, demi-paradise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This fortress built by Nature for herself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against infection and the hand of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This happy breed of men, this little world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This precious stone set in the silver sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which serves it in the office of a wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or as a moat defensive to a house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the envy of less happier lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>Richard II</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SONG_OF_THE_GREEKS" id="SONG_OF_THE_GREEKS"></a>SONG OF THE GREEKS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again to the battle, Achaians!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the cross of our faith is replanted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pale dying crescent is daunted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their spirits are hovering o'er us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sword shall to glory restore us.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! what though no succor advances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are stretched in our aid&mdash;be the combat our own!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For we've sworn by our country's assaulters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the virgins they've dragged from our altars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, living, we shall be victorious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A breath of submission we breathe not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth may hide&mdash;waves engulf&mdash;fire consume us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they shall not to slavery doom us:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we've smote them already with fire on the waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And new triumphs on the land are before us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the charge!&mdash;Heaven's banner is o'er us.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This day shall ye blush for its story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or brighten your lives with its glory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our women, oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Accursed may his memory blacken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If a coward there be that would slacken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strike home, and the world shall revere us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As heroes descended from heroes.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Greece lightens up with emotion<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That were cold and extinguished in sadness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SHERIDANS_RIDE" id="SHERIDANS_RIDE"></a>SHERIDAN'S RIDE.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">October 19, 1864.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up from the South at break of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The affrighted air with a shudder bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Telling the battle was on once more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sheridan twenty miles away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And wider still those billows of war<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thundered along the horizon's bar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And louder yet into Winchester rolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making the blood of the listener cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sheridan twenty miles away.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But there is a road from Winchester town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A good broad highway leading down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there, through the flash of the morning light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A steed as black as the steeds of night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was seen to pass as with eagle flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if he knew the terrible need,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stretched away with the utmost speed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hills rose and fell&mdash;but his heart was gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Sheridan fifteen miles away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the tail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forboding to traitors the doom of disaster.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heart of the steed and the heart of the master<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Impatient to be where the battlefield calls;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Sheridan only ten miles away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Under his spurning feet the road<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the landscape flowed away behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like an ocean flying before the wind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Sheridan only five miles away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The first that the General saw were the groups<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What was done&mdash;what to do&mdash;a glance told him both,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He dashed down the lines 'mid a storm of huzzas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sight of the master compelled it to pause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With foam and with dust the black charger was gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seemed to the whole great army to say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I've brought you Sheridan all the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Winchester down to save the day!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! for Sheridan!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! for horse and man!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when their statues are placed on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the dome of the Union sky&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The American soldier's temple of fame&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There with the glorious General's name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here is the steed that saved the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By carrying Sheridan into the fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Winchester, twenty miles away!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Buchanan Read.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus175.jpg" width="640" height="313" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="HURRICANE" id="HURRICANE"></a>THE HURRICANE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know thy breath in the burning sky!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the coming of the hurricane!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silent and slow, and terribly strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty shadow is borne along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the dark eternity to come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the world below, dismayed and dumb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">They darken fast; and the golden blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the sun is quenched in the lurid haze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he sends through the shade a funeral ray&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A glare that is neither night nor day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A beam that touches, with hues of death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clouds above and the earth beneath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To its covert glides the silent bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the hurricane's distant voice is heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uplifted among the mountains round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the forests hear and answer the sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He is come! he is come! do ye not behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ample robes on the winds unrolled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Giant of air! we bid thee hail!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How his huge and writhing arms are bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To clasp the zone of the firmament,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fold at length, in their dark embrace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From mountain to mountain the visible space.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Darker&mdash;still darker! the whirlwinds bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dust of the plains to the middle air:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hark to the crashing, long and loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the chariot of God in the thundercloud!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You may trace its path by the flashes that start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the rapid wheels where'er they dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the fire-bolts leap to the world below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flood the skies with a lurid glow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">What roar is that?&mdash;'tis the rain that breaks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In torrents away from the airy lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shedding a nameless horror round.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the very clouds!&mdash;ye are lost to my eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seek ye vainly, and see in your place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A whirling ocean that fills the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the crystal heaven, and buries all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I, cut off from the world, remain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone with the terrible hurricane.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;">
+<img src="images/illus177.jpg" width="475" height="640" alt="JOSEPH ADDISON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">JOSEPH ADDISON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="WHEN_ALL_THY_MERCIES_O_MY_GOD" id="WHEN_ALL_THY_MERCIES_O_MY_GOD"></a>WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When all Thy mercies, O my God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My rising soul surveys;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Transported with the view, I'm lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In wonder, love, and praise.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O how shall words with equal warmth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The gratitude declare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That glows within my ravished heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But Thou canst read it there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unnumbered comforts on my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy tender care bestowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before my infant heart conceived<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From whom these comforts flowed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand thousand precious gifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My daily thanks employ;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor is the least a cheerful heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That tastes those gifts with joy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through every period of my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy goodness I'll pursue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after death in distant worlds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The glorious theme renew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through all eternity, to Thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A joyful song I'll raise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, oh! eternity's too short<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To utter all Thy praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Joseph Addison.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_KINGDOM_OF_GOD" id="THE_KINGDOM_OF_GOD"></a>THE KINGDOM OF GOD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I say to thee, do thou repeat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the first man thou mayest meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lane, highway, or open street&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That he and we and all men move<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under a canopy of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As broad as the blue sky above;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That doubt and trouble, fear and pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And anguish, all are shadows vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That death itself shall not remain;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That weary deserts we may tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dreary labyrinth may thread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through dark ways underground be led;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, if we will one Guide obey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dreariest path, the darkest way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall issue out in heavenly day;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And we, on divers shores now cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in our Father's house at last.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Richard C. Trench.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_NOBLE_NATURE" id="THE_NOBLE_NATURE"></a>THE NOBLE NATURE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is not growing like a tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bulk, doth make man better be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or standing long an oak three hundred year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A lily of a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is fairer far in May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although it fall and die that night&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was the plant and flower of Light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In small proportions we just beauty see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in short measures life may perfect be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Ben Jonson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="WINSTANLEY" id="WINSTANLEY"></a>WINSTANLEY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Winstanley's deed, you kindly folk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With it I fill my lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a nobler man ne'er walked the world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let his name be what it may.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The good ship Snowdrop tarried long;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Up at the vane looked he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Belike," he said, for the wind had dropped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"She lieth becalmed at sea."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lovely ladies flocked within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And still would each one say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Good mercer, be the ships come up?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But still he answered, "Nay."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then stepped two mariners down the street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With looks of grief and fear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now, if Winstanley be your name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We bring you evil cheer!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For the good ship Snowdrop struck,&mdash;she struck<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the rock,&mdash;the Eddystone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down she went with threescore men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We two being left alone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Down in the deep with freight and crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Past any help she lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never a bale has come to shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all thy merchandise."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Winstanley said and sighed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"For velvet coif, or costly coat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They fathoms deep may bide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O mariners, bold and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sorry at heart, right sorry am I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A-thinking of yours and you.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Many long days Winstanley's breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall feel a weight within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a waft of wind he shall be 'feared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And trading count but sin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To him no more it shall be joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pace the cheerful town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see the lovely ladies gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Step on in velvet gown."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Snowdrop sank at Lammas tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All under the yeasty spray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Christmas Eve the brig Content<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was also cast away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He little thought o' New Year's night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So jolly as he sat then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While drank the toast and praised the roast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The round-faced Aldermen,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He little thought on Plymouth Hoe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With every rising tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the wave washed in his sailor lads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And laid them by his side.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There stepped a stranger to the board:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now, stranger, who be ye?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He looked to the right, he looked to the left,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And "Rest you merry," quoth he;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For you did not see the brig go down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or ever a storm had blown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For you did not see the white wave rear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the rock,&mdash;the Eddystone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She drave at the rock with stern sails set;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crash went the masts in twain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She staggered back with her mortal blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then leaped at it again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There rose a great cry, bitter and strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The misty moon looked out!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the water swarmed with seamen's heads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wreck was strewed about.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I saw her mainsail lash the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As I clung to the rock alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then she heeled over, and down she went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sank like any stone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She was a fair ship, but all's one!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For naught could bide the shock."&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I will take horse," Winstanley said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And see this deadly rock.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For never again shall bark o' mine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sail o'er the windy sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless, by the blessing of God, for this<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be found a remedy."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Winstanley rode to Plymouth town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All in the sleet and the snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he looked around on shore and sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till a pillar of spray rose far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shot up its stately head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reared, and fell over, and reared again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"'Tis the rock! the rock!" he said.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Straight to the Mayor he took his way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Good Master Mayor," quoth he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I am a mercer of London town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And owner of vessels three.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But for your rock of dark renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I had five to track the main."&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You are one of many," the old Mayor said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That of the rock complain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"An ill rock, mercer! your words ring right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well with my thoughts they chime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my two sons to the world to come<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It sent before their time."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lend me a lighter, good Master Mayor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a score of shipwrights free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I think to raise a lantern tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On this rock o' destiny."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The old Mayor laughed, but sighed also:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Ah, youth," quoth he, "is rash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it out<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the sea that doth it lash.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Who sails too near its jagged teeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He shall have evil lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the calmest seas that tumble there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Froth like a boiling pot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And the heavier seas few look on nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But straight they lay him dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A seventy-gun-ship, sir!&mdash;they'll shoot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Higher than her masthead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, beacons sighted in the dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They are right welcome things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pitch pots flaming on the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Show fair as angel wings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hast gold in hand? then light the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It 'longs to thee and me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let alone the deadly rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In God Almighty's sea."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet said he, "Nay,&mdash;I must away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the rock to set my feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My debts are paid, my will I made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or ever I did thee greet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If I must die, then let me die<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the rock and not elsewhere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I may live, Oh let me live<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To mount my lighthouse stair."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The old Mayor looked him in the face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And answered, "Have thy way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy heart is stout, as if round about<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was braced with an iron stay:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Have thy will, mercer! choose thy men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Put off from the storm-rid shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God with thee be, or I shall see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy face and theirs no more."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heavily plunged the breaking wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And foam flew up the lea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Morning and even the drifted snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fell into the dark gray sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Winstanley chose him men and gear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He said, "My time I waste,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the seas ran seething up the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wrack drave on in haste.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But twenty days he waited and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pacing the strand alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ever he sat his manly foot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the rock,&mdash;the Eddystone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he and the sea began their strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And worked with power and might;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever the man reared up by day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sea broke down by night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He wrought at ebb with bar and beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sailed to shore at flow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at his side, by that same tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came bar and beam also.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Give in, give in," the old Mayor cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Or thou wilt rue the day."&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yonder he goes," the townsfolk sighed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"But the rock will have its way.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For all his looks that are so stout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his speeches brave and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may wait on the wind, wait on the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But he'll build no lighthouse there."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In fine weather and foul weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The rock his arts did flout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the long days and the short days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till all that year ran out.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With fine weather and foul weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another year came in;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To take his wage," the workmen said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"We almost count a sin."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now March was gone, came April in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a sea fog settled down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And forth sailed he on a glassy sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sailed from Plymouth town.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With men and stores he put to sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As he was wont to do:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They showed in the fog like ghosts full faint,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A ghostly craft and crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the sea fog lay and waxed alway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For a long eight days and more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"God help our men," quoth the women then<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"For they bide long from shore."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They paced the Hoe in doubt and dread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Where may our mariners be?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the brooding fog lay soft as down<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over the quiet sea.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Scottish schooner made the port,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The thirteenth day at e'en;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"As I am a man," the captain cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"A strange sight I have seen:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And a strange sound heard, my masters all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At sea, in the fog and the rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like shipwrights' hammers tapping low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then loud, then low again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And a stately house one instant showed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through a rift on the vessel's lea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What manner of creatures may be those<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That build upon the sea."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sighed the folk, "The Lord be praised!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And they flocked to the shore amain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All over the Hoe that livelong night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Many stood out in the rain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It ceased; and the red sun reared his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the rolling fog did flee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, lo! in the offing faint and far<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Winstanley's house at sea!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In fair weather with mirth and cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The stately tower uprose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In foul weather with hunger and cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They were content to close;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till up the stair Winstanley went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To fire the wick afar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Plymouth in the silent night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Looked out and saw her star.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Winstanley set his foot ashore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said he, "My work is done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hold it strong to last as long<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As aught beneath the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But if it fail, as fail it may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Borne down with ruin and rout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another than I shall rear it high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And brace the girders stout.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A better than I shall rear it high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For now the way is plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though I were dead," Winstanley said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"The light would shine again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yet were I fain still to remain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Watch in my tower to keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tend my light in the stormiest night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ever did move the deep;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And if it stood, why then 'twere good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amid their tremulous stirs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To count each stroke when the mad waves broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For cheers of mariners.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But if it fell, then this were well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I should with it fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since, for my part, I have built my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the courses of its wall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ay! I were fain, long to remain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Watch in my tower to keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tend my light in the stormiest night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ever did move the deep."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With that Winstanley went his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And left the rock renowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And summer and winter his pilot star<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But it fell out, fell out at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he would put to sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To scan once more his lighthouse tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the rock o' destiny.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the winds broke, and the storm broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wrecks came plunging in;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None in the town that night lay down<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or sleep or rest to win.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The great mad waves were rolling graves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And each flung up its dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The seething flow was white below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And black the sky o'erhead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Broke on the trembling town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And men looked south to the harbor mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lighthouse tower was down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down in the deep, where he doth sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who made it shine afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then in the night that drowned its light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Set, with his pilot star.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Many fair tombs in the glorious glooms<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At Westminster they show;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brave and the great lie there in state;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Winstanley lieth low.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_STORM" id="THE_STORM"></a>THE STORM.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/illus190.jpg" width="235" height="307" alt="JOSEPH ADDISON." title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The tempest rages wild and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waves lift up their voice and cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce answers to the angry sky,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through the black night and driving rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A ship is struggling, all in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live upon the stormy main;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vain is it now to strive or dare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cry goes up of great despair,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stormy voices of the main,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moaning wind and pelting rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat on the nursery window pane:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Warm curtained was the little bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft pillowed was the little head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The storm will wake the child," they said:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cowering among his pillows white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Father, save those at sea to-night!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Miserere Domine.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The morning shone all clear and gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a ship at anchor in the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on a little child at play,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Gloria tibi Domine!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Adelaide Anne Procter.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="REST" id="REST"></a>REST.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rest is not quitting<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The busy career;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rest is the fitting<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of self to one's sphere:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis the brook's motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clear without strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fleeting to ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After its life:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis loving and serving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The highest and best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis onward, unswerving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And this is true rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Goethe.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_GRASSHOPPER" id="THE_GRASSHOPPER"></a>THE GRASSHOPPER.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/illus192.jpg" width="235" height="297" alt="JOSEPH ADDISON." title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Happy insect! what can be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In happiness compared to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fed with nourishment divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dewy morning's gentle wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature waits upon thee still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thy verdant cup does fill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature's self thy Ganymede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happier than the happiest king!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the fields which thou dost see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the plants belong to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All that summer hours produce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fertile made with early juice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man for thee does sow and plow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farmer he and landlord thou!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou dost innocently joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor does thy luxury destroy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shepherd gladly heareth thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More harmonious than he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee, country minds with gladness hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prophet of the ripened year:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee Ph&#339;bus loves and does inspire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ph&#339;bus is himself thy sire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee of all things upon earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life is no longer than thy mirth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happy insect! happy thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dost neither age nor winter know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Voluptuous and wise withal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Epicurean animal,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sated with the summer feast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou retir'st to endless rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Abraham Cowley.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CRICKET" id="THE_CRICKET"></a>THE CRICKET.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Little inmate, full of mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chirping on my kitchen hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wheresoe'er be thine abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Always harbinger of good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pay me for thy warm retreat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a song more soft and sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In return thou shalt receive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such a strain as I can give.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus thy praise shall be expressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inoffensive, welcome guest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the rat is on the scout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the mouse with curious snout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With what vermin else infest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ev'ry dish, and spoil the best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frisking thus before the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast all thine heart's desire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though in voice and shape they be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Formed as if akin to thee,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou surpassest, happier far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happiest grasshoppers that are;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs is but a summer's song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine endures the winter long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unimpaired, and shrill, and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melody throughout the year.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Neither night, nor dawn of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Puts a period to thy play:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing then&mdash;and extend thy span<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far beyond the date of man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wretched man, whose years are spent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In repining discontent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lives not, aged though he be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half a span, compared with thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cowper.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_WRENS_NEST" id="A_WRENS_NEST"></a>A WREN'S NEST.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Among the dwellings framed by birds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In field or forest with nice care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is none that with the little wren's<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In snugness may compare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No door the tenement requires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seldom needs a labored roof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet is it to the fiercest sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Impervious, and stormproof.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So warm, so beautiful withal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In perfect fitness for its aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to the kind by special grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their instinct surely came.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when for their abodes they seek<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An opportune recess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hermit has no finer eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For shadowy quietness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These find, 'mid ivied abbey walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A canopy in some still nook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others are penthoused by a brae<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That overhangs a brook.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There to the brooding bird her mate<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Warbles by fits his low clear song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the busy streamlet both<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are sung to all day long.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or in sequestered lanes they build,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where, till the flitting bird's return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eggs within the nest repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like relics in an urn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But still, where general choice is good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There is a better and a best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, among fairest objects, some<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are fairer than the rest;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This, one of those small builders proved<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a green covert, where, from out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The forehead of a pollard oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The leafy antlers sprout;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For she who planned the mossy lodge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mistrusting her evasive skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had to a primrose looked for aid<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her wishes to fulfill.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">High on the trunk's projecting brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fixed an infant's span above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The prettiest of the grove!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The treasure proudly did I show<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To some whose minds without disdain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can turn to little things; but once<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Looked up for it in vain:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis gone&mdash;a ruthless spoiler's prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who heeds not beauty, love, or song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Indignant at the wrong.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Just three days after, passing by<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In clearer light the moss-built cell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw, espied its shaded mouth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And felt that all was well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The primrose for a veil had spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The largest of her upright leaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus, for purposes benign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A simple flower deceives.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Concealed from friends who might disturb<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy quiet with no ill intent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secure from evil eyes and hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On barbarous plunder bent,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rest, mother bird! and when thy young<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Take flight, and thou art free to roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When withered is the guardian flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And empty thy late home,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amid the unviolated grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Housed near the growing primrose tuft<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In foresight, or in love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus197.jpg" width="640" height="412" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="ON_A_FAVORITE_CAT" id="ON_A_FAVORITE_CAT"></a>ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A
+TUB OF GOLDFISHES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas on a lofty vase's side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where China's gayest art had dyed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The azure flowers that blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Demurest of the tabby kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pensive Selima, reclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed on the lake below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her conscious tail her joy declared:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fair, round face, the snowy beard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The velvet of her paws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her coat that with the tortoise vies,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw, and purred applause.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two angel forms were seen to glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Genii of the stream:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through richest purple, to the view<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betrayed a golden gleam.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A whisker first, and then a claw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many an ardent wish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What female heart can gold despise?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What cat's averse to fish?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again she stretched, again she bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor knew the gulf between,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Malignant Fate sat by and smiled,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The slippery verge her feet beguiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She tumbled headlong in!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eight times emerging from the flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She mewed to every watery god<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some speedy aid to send:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A favorite has no friend!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know one false step is ne'er retrieved,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be with caution bold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not all that tempts your wandering eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heedless hearts is lawful prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor all that glitters gold!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SOLITARY_REAPER" id="THE_SOLITARY_REAPER"></a>THE SOLITARY REAPER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold her, single in the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon solitary Highland Lass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reaping and singing by herself;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stop here, or gently pass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone she cuts and binds the grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sings a melancholy strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O listen! for the vale profound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is overflowing with the sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No nightingale did ever chaunt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More welcome notes to weary bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of travelers in some shady haunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among Arabian sands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In springtime from the cuckoo bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breaking the silence of the seas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the farthest Hebrides.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Will no one tell me what she sings?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For old, unhappy, far-off things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And battles long ago:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it some more humble lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Familiar matter of to-day?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That has been, and may be again?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if her song could have no ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw her singing at her work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the sickle bending;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I listened, motionless and still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as I mounted up the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music in my heart I bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long after it was heard no more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="CORONACH" id="CORONACH"></a>CORONACH.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is gone on the mountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He is lost to the forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a summer-dried fountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When our need was the sorest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fount reappearing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the raindrops shall borrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to us comes no cheering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To Duncan no morrow!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hand of the reaper<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Takes the ears that are hoary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the voice of the weeper<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wails manhood in glory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The autumn winds, rushing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Waft the leaves that are searest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But our flower was in flushing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When blighting was nearest.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fleet foot on the correi,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sage counsel in cumber,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red hand in the foray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How sound is thy slumber!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the dew on the mountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the foam on the river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the bubble on the fountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art gone, and forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="LIFES_GOOD-MORNING" id="LIFES_GOOD-MORNING"></a>LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING."</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life! we have been long together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through pleasant and through cloudy weather.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then steal away, give little warning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Choose thine own time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter clime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bid me "Good-morning."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Anna Letitia Barbauld.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="MOONRISE" id="MOONRISE"></a>MOONRISE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The moon is up, and yet it is not night&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sunset divides the sky with her&mdash;a sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of glory streams along the Alpine height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From clouds, but of all colors seems to be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melted to one vast Iris of the West,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span><span class="i0">Where the Day joins the past Eternity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Floats through the azure air&mdash;an island of the blest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A single star is at her side, and reigns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon sunny lea heaves brightly, and remains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rh&aelig;tian hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Day and Night contending were, until<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature reclaim'd her order:&mdash;gently flows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The odorous purple of a new-born rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="TO_A_WATERFOWL" id="TO_A_WATERFOWL"></a>TO A WATERFOWL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 230px;">
+<img src="images/illus202.jpg" width="230" height="640" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Whither, midst falling dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While glow the heavens with the last steps of day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy solitary way?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Vainly the fowler's eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy figure floats along.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Seek'st thou the plashy brink<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or where the rocking billows rise and sink<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the chafed ocean side?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">There is a Power whose care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The desert and illimitable air,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lone wandering, but not lost.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">All day thy wings have fanned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though the dark night is near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And soon that toil shall end;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And shall not soon depart.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He who, from zone to zone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the long way that I must tread alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will lead my steps aright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="JERUSALEM_THE_GOLDEN" id="JERUSALEM_THE_GOLDEN"></a>JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Jerusalem, the golden!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With milk and honey blest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath thy contemplation<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sink heart and voice opprest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not, O I know not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What joys await us there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What radiancy of glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What bliss beyond compare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They stand, those halls of Zion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All jubilant with song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bright with many an angel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all the martyr throng.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Prince is ever in them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The daylight is serene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pastures of the bless&egrave;d<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are decked in glorious sheen.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is the throne of David;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And there, from care released,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shout of them that triumph,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The song of them that feast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they, who with their Leader,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have conquered in the fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forever and forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are clad in robes of white.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">St. Bernard</span> (translated by John M. Neale).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="O_MOTHER_DEAR_JERUSALEM" id="O_MOTHER_DEAR_JERUSALEM"></a>O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Mother dear, Jerusalem!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When shall I come to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When shall my sorrows have an end?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy joys when shall I see?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O happy harbor of God's saints!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O sweet and pleasant soil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thee no sorrow can be found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor gloom, nor darksome night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But every soul shines as the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For God Himself gives light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O my sweet home, Jerusalem!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy joys when shall I see?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King that sitteth on thy throne<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In His felicity?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy gardens and thy goodly walks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Continually are green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As nowhere else are seen.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The living waters flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the banks, on either side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The trees of life do grow.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Those trees each month yield ripened fruit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For evermore they spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the nations of the earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To thee their honors bring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Mother dear, Jerusalem!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When shall I come to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When shall my sorrows have an end?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy joys when shall I see?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Anonymous.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="EVENING2" id="EVENING2"></a>EVENING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Abide with me from morn till eve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For without Thee I cannot live:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abide with me when night is nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For without Thee I dare not die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou Framer of the light and dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the howling wintry sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We are in port if we have Thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If some poor wandering child of Thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let him no more lie down in sin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Watch by the sick: enrich the poor<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With blessings from Thy boundless store:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be every mourner's sleep to-night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like infants' slumbers, pure and light.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come near and bless us when we wake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere through the world our way we take;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till in the ocean of Thy love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We lose ourselves in Heaven above.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Keble.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="GOOD-NIGHT" id="GOOD-NIGHT"></a>GOOD-NIGHT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Close now thine eyes, and rest secure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy soul is safe enough; thy body sure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He that loves thee, He that keeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smiling Conscience in a sleeping breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has only peace, has only rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The music and the mirth of kings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are all but very discords, when she sings:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then close thine eyes and rest secure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Francis Quarles.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_DEWDROP" id="THE_DEWDROP"></a>THE DEWDROP.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A dewdrop, falling on the ocean wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exclaimed, in fear, "I perish in this grave!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, in a shell received, that drop of dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto a pearl of marvelous beauty grew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, happy now, the grace did magnify<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which thrust it forth&mdash;as it had feared&mdash;to die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until again, "I perish quite!" it said<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, unbelieving!&mdash;So it came to gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Richard C. Trench.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VIRTUE" id="VIRTUE"></a>VIRTUE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bridal of the earth and sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For thou must die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy root is ever in its grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And thou must die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A box where sweets compacted lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My music shows ye have your closes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all must die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Only a sweet and virtuous soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like seasoned timber, never gives;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But though the whole world turns to coal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then chiefly lives.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">George Herbert.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_HERITAGE" id="THE_HERITAGE"></a>THE HERITAGE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The rich man's son inherits lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And piles of brick, and stone, and gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he inherits soft white hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tender flesh that fears the cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor dares to wear a garment old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One scarce would wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The rich man's son inherits cares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bank may break, the factory burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A breath may burst his bubble shares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And soft white hands could hardly earn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A living that would serve his turn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One scarce would wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The rich man's son inherits wants,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His stomach craves for dainty fare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sated heart, he hears the pants<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wearies in his easy-chair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One scarce would wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What doth the poor man's son inherit?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stout muscles and a sinewy heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">King of two hands, he does his part<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In every useful toil and art;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A king might wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What doth the poor man's son inherit?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rank adjudged by toil-won merit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Content that from employment springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A heart that in his labor sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A king might wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What doth the poor man's son inherit?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A patience learned of being poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A fellow-feeling that is sure<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To make the outcast bless his door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A king might wish to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O rich man's son! there is a toil<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That with all others level stands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Large charity doth never soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But only whiten, soft white hands,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This is the best crop from thy lands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worth being rich to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O poor man's son! scorn not thy state;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There is worse weariness than thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In merely being rich and great;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Toil only gives the soul to shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And makes rest fragrant and benign;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worth being poor to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Both, heirs to some six feet of sod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are equal in the earth at last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both, children of the same dear God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Prove title to your heirship vast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By record of a well-filled past;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heritage, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well worth a life to hold in fee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_FISHERMAN" id="THE_FISHERMAN"></a>THE FISHERMAN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A perilous life, and sad as life may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath the lone fisher, on the lonely sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the wild waters laboring far from home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For some bleak pittance e'er compelled to roam:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Few hearts to cheer him through his dangerous life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And none to aid him in the stormy strife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Companion of the sea and silent air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lonely fisher thus must ever fare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without the comfort, hope,&mdash;with scarce a friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He looks through life and only sees its end!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Bryan Waller Procter</span> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER" id="LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER"></a>LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.</h2>
+
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 166px;">
+<img src="images/illus211.jpg" width="166" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll give thee a silver pound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To row us o'er the ferry."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This dark and stormy water?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And this Lord Ullin's daughter.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And fast before her father's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Three days we've fled together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For should he find us in the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My blood would stain the heather.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His horsemen hard behind us ride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Should they our steps discover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then who will cheer my bonny bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When they have slain her lover?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I'll go, my chief&mdash;I'm ready:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not for your silver bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But for your winsome lady:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And by my word! the bonny bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In danger shall not tarry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So though the waves are raging white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll row you o'er the ferry."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By this the storm grew loud apace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The water wraith was shrieking;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the scowl of heaven each face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grew dark as they were speaking.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But still as wilder blew the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as the night grew drearer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adown the glen rode arm&egrave;d men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their trampling sounded nearer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Though tempests round us gather;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll meet the raging of the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But not an angry father."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The boat has left a stormy land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A stormy sea before her,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, Oh! too strong for human hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tempest gathered o'er her.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And still they rowed amidst the roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of waters fast prevailing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His wrath was changed to wailing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His child he did discover:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One lovely hand she stretched for aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And one was round her lover.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Across this stormy water:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll forgive your Highland chief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My daughter!&mdash;oh my daughter!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Return or aid preventing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waters wild went o'er his child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he was left lamenting.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="JOCK_OF_HAZELDEAN" id="JOCK_OF_HAZELDEAN"></a>JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why weep ye by the tide?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll wed ye to my youngest son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ye sall be his bride:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ye sall be his bride, ladie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sae comely to be seen"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now let this wilfu' grief be done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dry that cheek so pale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Frank is chief of Errington,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lord of Langley-dale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His step is first in peaceful ha',<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His sword in battle keen"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A chain of gold ye sall not lack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor braid to bind your hair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor palfrey fresh and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you, the foremost o' them a',<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall ride our forest queen"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The kirk was decked at morningtide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tapers glimmered fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dame and knight are there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sought her baith by bower and ha',<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The ladie was not seen!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She's o'er the Border, and awa'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="EXILE_OF_ERIN" id="EXILE_OF_ERIN"></a>EXILE OF ERIN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sad is my fate! said the heartbroken stranger;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I have no refuge from famine and danger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A home and a country remain not to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never again, in the green sunny bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a mansion of peace&mdash;where no perils can chase me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never again shall my brothers embrace me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They died to defend me or live to deplore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And where is the bosom friend clearer than all?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tears, like the raindrop, may fall without measure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One dying wish my lone bosom can draw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Erin! an exile bequeathes thee his blessing!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Green be thy field,&mdash;sweetest isle of the ocean!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Erin mavournin&mdash;Erin go bragh!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SONG2" id="SONG2"></a>SONG.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The heath this night must be my bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bracken curtain for my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lullaby the warder's tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far from love and thee, Mary;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My couch may be my bloody plaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It will not waken me, Mary!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I may not, dare not, fancy now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grief that clouds thy lovely brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dare not think upon thy vow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all it promised me, Mary.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No fond regret must Norman know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heart must be like bended bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His foot like arrow free, Mary.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A time will come with feeling fraught!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, if I fall in battle fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hapless lover's dying thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall be a thought on thee, Mary:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if returned from conquered foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How blithely will the evening close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet the linnet sing repose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To my young bride and me, Mary.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>The Lady of The Lake</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_BANKS_O_DOON" id="THE_BANKS_O_DOON"></a>THE BANKS O' DOON.</h2>
+
+<h3>(<span class="smcap">Second Version.</span>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How can ye chant, ye little birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I sae weary, fu' o' care!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou minds me o' departed joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Departed&mdash;never to return!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see the rose and woodbine twine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ilka bird sang o' its luve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fondly sae did I o' mine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my fause lover stole my rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus218.jpg" width="640" height="148" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="LADY_CLARE" id="LADY_CLARE"></a>LADY CLARE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was the time when lilies blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And clouds are highest up in air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To give his cousin, Lady Clare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I trow they did not part in scorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lovers long betrothed were they:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They two will wed the morrow morn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">God's blessing on the day!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He does not love me for my birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor for my lands so broad and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He loves me for my own true worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And that is well," said Lady Clare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In there came old Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said, "Who was this that went from thee?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"To-morrow he weds with me."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That all comes round so just and fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And you are not the Lady Clare."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"As God is above," said Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I speak the truth: you are my child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I speak the truth, as I live by bread!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I buried her like my own sweet child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And put my child in her stead."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Falsely, falsely have ye done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O mother," she said, "if this be true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To keep the best man under the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So many years from his due."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"But keep the secret for your life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When you are man and wife."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If I'm a beggar born," she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I will speak out, for I dare not lie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fling the diamond necklace by."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"But keep the secret all ye can."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "Not so: but I will know<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If there be any faith in man."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"The man will cleave unto his right."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And he shall have it," the lady replied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Tho' I should die to-night."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alas, my child, I sinned for thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O mother, mother, mother," she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"So strange it seems to me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My mother dear, if this be so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay your hand upon my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bless me, mother, ere I go."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She clad herself in a russet gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She was no longer Lady Clare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She went by dale, and she went by town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a single rose in her hair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leapt up from where she lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropt her head in the maiden's hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And followed her all the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why come you drest like a village maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That are the flower of the earth?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If I come drest like a village maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I am but as my fortunes are:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am a beggar born," she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And not the Lady Clare."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"For I am yours in word and deed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Your riddle is hard to read."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O and proudly stood she up!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her heart within her did not fail:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And told him all her nurse's tale.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He laughed a laugh of merry scorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He turned and kissed her where she stood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If you are not the heiress born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I," said he, "the next in blood&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If you are not the heiress born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I," said he, "the lawful heir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We two will wed to-morrow morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And you shall still be Lady Clare."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="BELSHAZZAR" id="BELSHAZZAR"></a>BELSHAZZAR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Belshazzar is king! Belshazzar is lord!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fruits glisten, flowers blossom, meats steam, and a flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the wine that man loveth, runs redder than blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild dancers are there, and a riot of mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the crowds all shout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Till the vast roofs ring,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Bring forth," cries the Monarch, "the vessels of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which my father tore down from the temples of old;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring forth, and we'll drink, while the trumpets are blown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the gods of bright silver, of gold, and of stone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring forth!" and before him the vessels all shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he bows unto Baal, and drinks the dark wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whilst the trumpets bray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the cymbals ring,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now what cometh&mdash;look, look!&mdash;without menace, or call?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who writes, with the lightning's bright hand, on the wall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What pierceth the king like the point of a dart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Chaldeans! Magicians! the letters expound!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are read&mdash;and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hark!&mdash;the Persian is come<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">On a conqueror's wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a Mede's on the throne of Belshazzar the king.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Bryan Waller Procter</span> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 800px;">
+<img src="images/illus223.jpg" width="800" height="542" alt="BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST." title="" />
+<span class="caption">BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST.</span>
+<p class="ralign">J. MARTIN.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_PIPES_AT_LUCKNOW" id="THE_PIPES_AT_LUCKNOW"></a>THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">An Incident of the Sepoy Mutiny.</span></h3>
+
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 177px;">
+<img src="images/illus224.jpg" width="177" height="314" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 360px;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pipes of the misty moorlands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Voice of the glens and hills;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The droning of the torrents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The treble of the rills!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the braes of broom and heather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor the mountains dark with rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have heard your sweetest strain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear to the Lowland reaper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plaided mountaineer,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the cottage and the castle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Scottish pipes are dear;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er mountain, loch, and glade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the sweetest of all music<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pipes at Lucknow played.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Day by day the Indian tiger<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Louder yelled, and nearer crept;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round and round, the jungle serpent<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Near and nearer circles swept.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pray to-day!" the soldier said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To-morrow, death's between us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wrong and shame we dread,"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, they listened, looked, and waited,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till their hope became despair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sobs of low bewailing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Filled the pauses of their prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then up spake a Scottish maiden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With her ear unto the ground:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Dinna ye hear it?&mdash;dinna ye hear it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pipes o' Havelock sound!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hushed the wounded man his groaning;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hushed the wife her little ones;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone they heard the drum-roll<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the roar of Sepoy guns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to sounds of home and childhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Highland ear was true;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As her mother's cradle crooning<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The mountain pipes she knew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like the march of soundless music<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the vision of the seer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More of feeling than of hearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the heart than of the ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knew the droning pibroch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She knew the Campbell's call:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The grandest o' them all!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And they caught the sound at last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint and far beyond the Goomtee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rose and fell the piper's blast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then a burst of wild thanksgiving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mingled woman's voice and man's;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"God be praised!&mdash;the march of Havelock!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The piping of the clans!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sharp and shrill as swords at strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stinging all the air to life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when the far-off dust cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To plaided legions grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full tenderly and blithesomely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pipes of rescue blew!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Round the silver domes of Lucknow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathed the air to Britons dearest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The air of Auld Lang Syne.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the cruel roll of war drums<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rose that sweet and homelike strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the tartan clove the turban,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the Goomtee cleaves the plain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear to the corn-land reaper<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plaided mountaineer,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the cottage and the castle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The piper's song is dear.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span><span class="i0">Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er mountain, glen, and glade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the sweetest of all music<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pipes at Lucknow played!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Greenleaf Whittier.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus227.jpg" width="640" height="431" alt="THE RESIDENCY, LUCKNOW, INDIA." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE RESIDENCY, LUCKNOW, INDIA.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="COMPANIONSHIP_WITH_NATURE" id="COMPANIONSHIP_WITH_NATURE"></a>COMPANIONSHIP WITH NATURE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He had the passion and the power to roam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were unto him companionship; they spake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mutual language, clearer than the tome<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">For Nature's pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="GLADIATOR" id="GLADIATOR"></a>THE GLADIATOR.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I see before me the Gladiator lie:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He leans upon his hand&mdash;his manly brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Consents to death, but conquers agony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his drooped head sinks gradually low&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the first of a thunder shower; and now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The arena swims around him&mdash;he is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He heard it, but he heeded not&mdash;his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were with his heart, and that was far away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There were his young barbarians all at play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was their Dacian mother&mdash;he, their sire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Butchered to make a Roman holiday&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this rushed with his blood&mdash;Shall he expire,<br /></span>
+<span class="r1">And unavenged?&mdash;Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Lord George Noel Gordon Byron.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>From</i> "<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="HOW_THEY_BROUGHT_THE_GOOD_NEWS" id="HOW_THEY_BROUGHT_THE_GOOD_NEWS"></a>"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS
+FROM GHENT TO AIX."</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And into the midnight we galloped abreast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rebuckled the cheek strap, chained slacker the bit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At D&uuml;ffield, 'twas morning as plain as could be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from Mecheln church steeple we heard half the chime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And against him the cattle stood black every one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With resolute shoulders, each butting away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one eye's black intelligence,&mdash;ever that glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thick heavy spume flakes which aye and anon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll remember at Aix"&mdash;for one heard the quick wheeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broad sun above laughs a pitiless laugh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till over by Dalhem a dome spire sprang white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How they'll greet us!"&mdash;and all in a moment his roan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with circles of red for his eye sockets' rim.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shook off both my jack boots, let go belt and all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And all I remember is, friends flocking round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus231.jpg" width="640" height="438" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="SANDALPHON" id="SANDALPHON"></a>SANDALPHON.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Have you read in the Talmud of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the Legends the Rabbins have told<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the limitless realms of the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have you read it,&mdash;the marvelous story<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How, erect, at the outermost gates<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the City Celestial he waits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With his feet on the ladder of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, crowded with angels unnumbered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alone in the desert at night?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Angels of Wind and of Fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chant only one hymn, and expire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the song's irresistible stress;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Expire in their rapture and wonder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As harp strings are broken asunder<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By music they throb to express.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But serene in the rapturous throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmoved by the rush of the song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With eyes unimpassioned and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the dead angels, the deathless<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sandalphon stands listening breathless<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sounds that ascend from below;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the spirits on earth that adore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the souls that entreat and implore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the fervor and passion of prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the hearts that are broken with losses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weary with dragging the crosses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too heavy for mortals to bear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he gathers the prayers as he stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they change into flowers in his hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into garlands of purple and red;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span><span class="i0">And beneath the great arch of the portal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the streets of the City Immortal<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is wafted the fragrance they shed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is but a legend, I know,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fable, a phantom, a show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the ancient Rabbinical lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the old medi&aelig;val tradition,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The beautiful, strange superstition,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But haunts me and holds me the more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When I look from my window at night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the welkin above is all white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All throbbing and panting with stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among them majestic is standing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sandalphon, the angel, expanding<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His pinions in nebulous bars.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the legend, I feel, is a part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The frenzy and fire of the brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That grasps at the fruitage forbidden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The golden pomegranates of Eden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To quiet its fever and pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/illus234.jpg" width="480" height="625" alt="JOHN MILTON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">JOHN MILTON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="HYMN2" id="HYMN2"></a>HYMN.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was the winter wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the heaven-born child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature in awe to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has doffed her gaudy trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her great Master so to sympathize:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No war, or battle's sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was heard the world around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hook&egrave;d chariot stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unstained with hostile blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trumpet spake not to the arm&egrave;d throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kings sat still with awful eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But peaceful was the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein the Prince of Light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His reign of peace upon the earth began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winds with wonder whist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smoothly the waters kissed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispering new joys to the mild ocean&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charm&egrave;d wave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stars with deep amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending one way their precious influence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will not take their flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all the morning light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in their glimmering orbs did glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yea, Truth and Justice then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will down return to men,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mercy will sit between<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Throned in celestial sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Heaven, as at some festival<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 496px;">
+<img src="images/illus236.jpg" width="496" height="480" alt="HOLY NIGHT." title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOLY NIGHT.</span>
+<p class="ralign">H. GRASS.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But wisest Fate says no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This must not yet be so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That on the bitter cross<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must redeem our loss;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So both himself and us to glorify;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet first, to those ychained in sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But see, the Virgin blest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath laid her Babe to rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time is, our tedious song should here have ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven's youngest-teem&egrave;d star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath fixed her polished car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all about the courtly stable<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">John Milton.</span><br /></span>
+<span class="r1"><i>A Selection.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;">
+<img src="images/illus237.jpg" width="448" height="194" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_NEW_YEAR" id="THE_NEW_YEAR"></a>THE NEW YEAR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flying cloud, the frosty light:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The year is dying in the night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out the old, ring in the new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring, happy bells, across the snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The year is going, let him go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring out the false, ring in the true.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out the grief that saps the mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For those that here we see no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring out the feud of rich and poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring in redress to all mankind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out a slowly dying cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ancient forms of party strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring in the nobler modes of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sweeter manners, purer laws.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out the want, the care, the sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The faithless coldness of the times;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring out, ring out, my mournful rhymes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ring the fuller minstrel in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out false pride in place and blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The civic slander and the spite;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring in the love of truth and right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring in the common love of good.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out old shapes of foul disease;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring out the thousand wars of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring in the thousand years of peace.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring in the valiant man and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The larger heart, the kindlier hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring out the darkness of the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring in the Christ that is to be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/illus238.jpg" width="640" height="158" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="RECOMMENDED_POEMS" id="RECOMMENDED_POEMS"></a><i>RECOMMENDED POEMS.</i></h2>
+
+
+<p>As it has been impossible to include in this collection as
+many poems by American authors as we desired, we recommend
+the following, all of which are published by Houghton,
+Mifflin &amp; Co., with the exception of Bryant's poems, which are
+published by D. Appleton &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr>
+<td align='left'>
+<span class="smcap">Aldrich, Thomas Bailey.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">After the Rain.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barberries.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the Rain.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bluebells of New England.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Bryant, William Cullen.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Northern Legend.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gladness of Nature.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Cary, Alice.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gray Swan.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Humblebee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Harte, Bret.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Reveill&eacute;.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Sunday Hymn.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Chambered Nautilus.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Height of the Ridiculous.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Music Grinders.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The One Hoss Shay.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Psalm of Life.</span><br />
+</td>
+
+<td align='left'>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Burial of the Minnisink.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christmas Bells.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enceladus.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paul Revere's Ride.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Santa Filomena.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snowflakes.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Song of the Silent Land.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bell of Atri.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Builders.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Day is Done.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Old Clock on the Stairs.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Open Window.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Ropewalk.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Two Angels.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Victor Galbraith.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Lowell, James Russell.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stanzas on Freedom.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fatherland.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Shepherd of King Admetus.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Whittier, John Greenleaf.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abraham Davenport.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laus Deus.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Psalm.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nanhaught, the Deacon.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Corn Song.</span><br />
+&nbsp;<br />
+&nbsp;<br />
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,8202 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of Song, Book II
+       For lower grammar grades
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Larkin Dunton
+
+Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38880]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF SONG, BOOK II ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  THE LAND OF SONG
+
+  BOOK II.
+
+  _FOR LOWER GRAMMAR GRADES_
+
+
+  SELECTED BY
+  KATHARINE H. SHUTE
+
+
+  EDITED BY
+  LARKIN DUNTON, LL.D.
+  HEAD MASTER OF THE BOSTON NORMAL SCHOOL
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
+  NEW YORK      BOSTON      CHICAGO
+  1899
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1899,
+  BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
+
+  BOSTON:
+  C. J. PETERS & SON, TYPOGRAPHERS.
+  Plimpton Press
+  H. M. PLIMPTON & CO., PRINTERS & BINDERS,
+  NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+_COMPILERS' PREFACE._
+
+
+The inestimable value of literature in supplying healthful recreation,
+in opening the mind to larger views of life, and in creating ideals that
+shall mold the spiritual nature, is conceded now by every one who has
+intelligently considered the problems of education. But the basis upon
+which literature shall be selected and arranged is still a matter of
+discussion.
+
+Chronology, race-correspondence, correlation, and ethical training
+should all be recognized incidentally; but the main purpose of the
+teacher of literature is to send children on into life with a genuine
+love for good reading. To accomplish this, three things should be true
+of the reading offered: first, it should be _literature_; second, it
+should be literature of some scope, not merely some small phase of
+literature, such as the fables or the poetry of one of the less eminent
+poets; and third, it should appeal to children's natural interests.
+Children's interests, varied as they seem, center in the marvelous and
+the preternatural; in the natural world; and in human life, especially
+child life and the romantic and heroic aspects of mature life. In the
+selections made for each grade, we have recognized these different
+interests.
+
+To grade poetry perfectly for different ages is an impossibility; much
+of the greatest verse is for all ages--that is one reason why it _is_
+great. A child of five will lisp the numbers of Horatius with delight;
+and Scott's _Lullaby of an Infant Chief_, with its romantic color and
+its exquisite human tenderness, is dear to childhood, to manhood, and to
+old age. But the Land of Song is a great undiscovered country to the
+little child; by some road or other he must find his way into it; and
+these volumes simply attempt to point out a path through which he may be
+led into its happy fields.
+
+Our earnest thanks are due to the following publishers for permission
+to use copyrighted poems: to Houghton, Mifflin & Co. for poems by
+Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, Aldrich, Bayard Taylor,
+James T. Fields, Phoebe Cary, Lucy Larcom, Celia Thaxter, and Sarah Orne
+Jewett; to D. Appleton & Co. for a large number of Bryant's poems; to
+Charles Scribner's Sons for two poems by Stevenson, from _Underwoods_,
+and _A Child's Garden of Verse_; to J. B. Lippincott & Co. for two poems
+by Thomas Buchanan Read; and to Henry T. Coates & Co. for a poem by
+Charles Fenno Hoffman.
+
+The present volume is intended for the fourth, fifth, and sixth school
+years, or lower grammar grades. It is the second of three books prepared
+for use in the grades below the high school. As no collection of this
+size can supply as much poetry as may be used to advantage, and as many
+desirable poems by American writers have necessarily been omitted, we
+have noted at the end of this volume lists of poems which it would be
+well to add to the material given here, that our children may realize
+the scope and beauty of the poetry of their own land.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                            PAGE
+  ALICE BRAND                                                 64
+  AT SEA                                                      60
+
+  BANKS O' DOON, THE                                         217
+  BATTLE OF BLENHEIM, THE                                    141
+  BATTLE OF THE BALTIC, THE                                  103
+  BELEAGUERED CITY, THE                                      133
+  BELSHAZZAR                                                 221
+  BOY AND THE ANGEL, THE                                     118
+  BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING              157
+  BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE                                    22
+  BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL                                 30
+
+  CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT                          93
+  CA' THE YOWES                                               81
+  CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE, THE                            89
+  CHILDREN IN THE WOOD, THE                                   71
+  CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN PEASANTS                           125
+  COMPANIONSHIP WITH NATURE                                  227
+  CONCORD HYMN                                               161
+  CORAL GROVE, THE                                            63
+  COUNCIL OF HORSES, THE                                     114
+  CORONACH                                                   200
+  CRICKET, THE                                               193
+
+  DAFFODILS                                                   15
+  DAFFODILS, THE                                              13
+  DEATH OF NELSON, THE                                       164
+  DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB                                  18
+  DEWDROP, THE                                               207
+
+  ELIXIR, THE                                                117
+  ENGLAND                                                    170
+  EPITAPH ON A HARE                                          112
+  EVENING (John Fletcher)                                    150
+  EVENING (John Keble)                                       206
+  EVENING WIND, THE                                          123
+  EXILE OF ERIN                                              215
+
+  FAREWELL, A                                                152
+  FIDELITY                                                   108
+  FINE DAY, A                                                 35
+  FISHERMAN, THE                                             211
+  FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT                                    69
+
+  GLADIATOR, THE                                             228
+  GOOD-NIGHT                                                 207
+  GRASSHOPPER, THE                                           192
+  GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD, THE                                 121
+  GREEN CORNFIELD, A                                          41
+
+  HALLOWED GROUND                                            145
+  HERITAGE, THE                                              208
+  HOHENLINDEN                                                 21
+  HOLY, HOLY, HOLY                                            19
+  HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD                          27
+  HONEY-BEE, THE                                              15
+  HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE                                        104
+  "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX"         229
+  HYMN OF THE NATIVITY                                       234
+  HURRICANE, THE                                             175
+
+  INCHCAPE ROCK, THE                                          43
+  INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP                                147
+  INGRATITUDE                                                 57
+
+  JOCK OF HAZELDEAN                                          213
+  JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN                                      204
+
+  KINGDOM OF GOD, THE                                        178
+  KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY                      126
+
+  LADY CLARE                                                 218
+  LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS                              28
+  LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING"                                      201
+  LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG                                      105
+  LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER                                      211
+  LOVE OF GOD, THE                                            31
+
+  MARCH                                                       42
+  MONTEREY                                                   162
+  MOONRISE, A SELECTION                                      201
+  MORNING                                                    149
+  MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD                             37
+
+  NEW YEAR, THE                                              237
+  NIGHT                                                      101
+  NOBLE NATURE, THE                                          179
+  NORTHERN SEAS, THE                                          61
+
+  ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND                                 167
+  OH! WEEP FOR THOSE                                          17
+  O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM                                   205
+  ON A FAVORITE CAT DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES           197
+  ON A SPANIEL CALLED "BEAU" KILLING A YOUNG BIRD             78
+  ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET (Leigh Hunt)                111
+  ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET (John Keats)                110
+  O WAD SOME POWER                                            37
+
+  PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU                                       24
+  PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN, THE                                  46
+  PILGRIM FATHERS, THE                                        84
+  PIPES AT LUCKNOW, THE                                      224
+  PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE                                  32
+
+  QUIET, LORD, MY FROWARD HEART                              149
+
+  REBECCA'S HYMN                                              20
+  REST                                                       191
+  REVENGE, THE                                               143
+  RHYMED LESSON, A                                            82
+  ROYAL GEORGE, THE                                           91
+  RUTH                                                       116
+
+  SAILOR'S WIFE, THE                                         135
+  SANDALPHON                                                 231
+  SELECTION FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, A               155
+  SELKIRK GRACE, THE                                          31
+  SHEPHERD'S HOME, THE                                        77
+  SHERIDAN'S RIDE                                            172
+  SKYLARK, THE                                                39
+  SOLDIER AND SAILOR                                         137
+  SOLDIER'S DREAM, THE                                        26
+  SOLITARY REAPER, THE                                       199
+  SONG FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE                             216
+  SONG OF MARION'S MEN                                        99
+  SONG OF THE GREEKS                                         170
+  SONG OF THE SEA, A                                          58
+  SONG: "ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE MADE TREES"                   151
+  SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL                                     125
+  SPRING                                                      38
+  STARS                                                      101
+  STORM, THE                                                 190
+  SUMMER SHOWER, THE                                          36
+  SWEET PEAS                                                  80
+
+  THY VOICE IS HEARD THROUGH ROLLING DRUMS                   148
+  TO A MOUSE                                                 153
+  TO A WATERFOWL                                             202
+  TO DAFFODILS                                                14
+  TO THE CUCKOO                                               40
+  TO THE SMALL CELANDINE                                     131
+
+  UNION AND LIBERTY                                           97
+  UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD                            16
+
+  VIRTUE                                                     208
+
+  WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD                             177
+  WHEN WILT THOU SAVE THE PEOPLE?                             94
+  WINSTANLEY                                                 180
+  WIVES OF BRIXHAM, THE                                       86
+  WREN'S NEST, A                                             194
+
+  YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND                                     163
+
+
+
+
+_Index of Authors._
+
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH.
+    When all thy Mercies, O my God                           177
+
+  ANONYMOUS.
+    O Mother Dear, Jerusalem                                 205
+    The Children in the Wood                                  71
+    The Wives of Brixham                                      86
+
+  ARNOLD.
+    The Death of Nelson                                      164
+
+  BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA.
+    Life's "Good-Morning"                                    201
+
+  BLAKE, WILLIAM.
+    Night                                                    101
+
+  BROWNING, ROBERT.
+    An Incident of the French Camp                           147
+    "How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix"       229
+    The Boy and the Angel                                    118
+    The Pied Piper of Hamelin                                 46
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.
+    March                                                     42
+    Song of Marion's Men                                      99
+    The Evening Wind                                         123
+    The Hurricane                                            175
+    The Love of God                                           31
+    The Planting of the Apple Tree                            32
+    To a Waterfowl                                           202
+    Upon the Mountain's Distant Head                          16
+
+  BURNS, ROBERT.
+    Ca' the Yowes                                             81
+    For A' That, and A' That                                  69
+    Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots                            28
+    O wad some Power                                          37
+    The Banks o' Doon                                        217
+    The Selkirk Grace                                         31
+    To a Mouse                                               153
+
+  BYRON, LORD (GEORGE NOEL GORDON).
+    A Selection from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage              155
+    Companionship with Nature, A Selection                   227
+    Moonrise, A Selection                                    201
+    Oh! weep for Those                                        17
+    The Destruction of Sennacherib                            18
+    The Gladiator, A Selection                               228
+
+  CAMPBELL, THOMAS.
+    Exile of Erin                                            215
+    Hallowed Ground                                          145
+    Hohenlinden                                               21
+    Lord Ullin's Daughter                                    211
+    Soldier and Sailor                                       137
+    Song of the Greeks                                       170
+    The Battle of the Baltic                                 103
+    The Soldier's Dream                                       26
+    Ye Mariners of England                                   163
+
+  COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR.
+    Choral Song of Illyrian Peasants                         125
+
+  COLLINS, WILLIAM.
+    How Sleep the Brave                                      104
+
+  CORNWALL, BARRY. (See PROCTER.)
+
+  COWLEY, ABRAHAM.
+    The Grasshopper                                          192
+
+  COWPER, WILLIAM.
+    Epitaph on a Hare                                        112
+    On a Spaniel called "Beau" killing a Young Bird           78
+    The Cricket                                              193
+    The Royal George                                          91
+
+  CUNNINGHAM, ALLAN.
+    At Sea                                                    60
+
+  DRAYTON, MICHAEL.
+    A Fine Day                                                35
+
+  ELLIOTT, EBENEZER.
+    When Wilt Thou save the People                            94
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO.
+    Concord Hymn                                             161
+
+  FLETCHER, JOHN.
+    Evening                                                  150
+
+  GAY, JOHN.
+    The Council of Horses                                    114
+
+  GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG.
+    Rest                                                     191
+
+  GRAY, THOMAS.
+    On a Favorite Cat, drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes        197
+
+  HEBER, REGINALD.
+    Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning            157
+    By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill                               30
+    Holy, Holy, Holy                                          19
+
+  HEMANS, FELICIA.
+    The Graves of a Household                                121
+    The Pilgrim Fathers                                       84
+
+  HERBERT, GEORGE.
+    The Elixir                                               117
+    Virtue                                                   208
+
+  HERRICK, ROBERT.
+    To Daffodils                                              14
+
+  HOFFMAN, CHARLES FENNO.
+    Monterey                                                 162
+
+  HOGG, JAMES.
+    The Skylark                                               39
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL.
+    A Rhymed Lesson, Selections                               82
+    Union and Liberty                                         97
+
+  HOOD, THOMAS.
+    Ruth                                                     116
+
+  HOWITT, MARY.
+    The Northern Seas                                         61
+
+  HUNT, LEIGH.
+    On the Grasshopper and Cricket                           111
+
+  INGELOW, JEAN.
+    Winstanley                                               180
+
+  JONSON, BEN.
+    The Noble Nature                                         179
+
+  KEATS, JOHN.
+    On the Grasshopper and Cricket                           110
+    Sweet Peas, A Selection                                   80
+
+  KEBLE, JOHN.
+    Evening                                                  206
+    Morning                                                  149
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES.
+    Ode to the North-East Wind                               167
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH.
+    Sandalphon                                               231
+    The Beleaguered City                                     133
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL.
+    The Heritage                                             208
+
+  MICKLE, WILLIAM J.
+    The Sailor's Wife                                        135
+
+  MILTON, JOHN.
+    Hymn of the Nativity, A Selection                        234
+
+  MOORE, THOMAS.
+    Sound the Loud Timbrel                                   125
+
+  NASH, THOMAS.
+    Spring                                                    38
+
+  NEWTON, JOHN.
+    Quiet, Lord, my Froward Heart                            149
+
+  PERCIVAL, JAMES G.
+    The Coral Grove                                           63
+
+  PERCY, THOMAS.
+    King John and the Abbot of Canterbury                    126
+
+  PROCTER, ADELAIDE.
+    The Storm                                                190
+
+  PROCTER, BRYAN WALLER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+    A Song of the Sea                                         58
+    Belshazzar                                               221
+    Stars                                                    101
+    The Fisherman                                            211
+
+  QUARLES, FRANCIS.
+    Good-Night                                               207
+
+  READ, THOMAS BUCHANAN.
+    Sheridan's Ride                                          172
+    The Summer Shower                                         36
+
+  ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G.
+    A Green Cornfield                                         41
+
+  ST. BERNARD.
+    Jerusalem, the Golden                                    204
+
+  SCOTT, SIR WALTER.
+    Alice Brand                                               64
+    Coronach                                                 200
+    Jock of Hazeldean                                        213
+    Pibroch of Donald Dhu                                     24
+    Rebecca's Hymn                                            20
+    Song From "The Lady of the Lake"                         216
+
+  SEARS, EDMUND H.
+    Calm on the Listening Ear of Night                        93
+
+  SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM.
+    Daffodils, A Selection                                    15
+    England, A Selection                                     170
+    Ingratitude, A Selection                                  57
+    Song: "Orpheus with his lute made trees"                 151
+    The Honey-bee, A Selection                                15
+
+  SHENSTONE, WILLIAM.
+    The Shepherd's Home                                       77
+
+  SOUTHEY, ROBERT.
+    Llewellyn and his Dog                                    105
+    The Battle of Blenheim                                   141
+    The Inchcape Rock                                         43
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED.
+    A Farewell                                               152
+    Home they brought her Warrior dead                        27
+    Lady Clare                                               218
+    The Charge of the Light Brigade                           89
+    The New Year                                             237
+    The Revenge, A Selection                                 143
+    Thy Voice is heard through Rolling Drums                 148
+
+  TRENCH, RICHARD C.
+    The Dewdrop                                              207
+    The Kingdom of God                                       178
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF.
+    The Pipes at Lucknow                                     224
+
+  WOLFE, CHARLES.
+    The Burial of Sir John Moore                              22
+
+  WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM.
+    A Wren's Nest                                            194
+    Fidelity                                                 108
+    My heart leaps up when I behold                           37
+    The Daffodils                                             13
+    The Solitary Reaper                                      199
+    To the Cuckoo                                             40
+    To the Small Celandine                                   131
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART I._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: AUTUMN.
+
+E. SEMENOWSKY.]
+
+
+
+
+_THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II._
+
+PART ONE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  I wandered lonely as a cloud
+  That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+  When all at once I saw a crowd,
+  A host, of golden daffodils;
+  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+  Continuous as the stars that shine
+  And twinkle on the milky way,
+  They stretched in never-ending line
+  Along the margin of a bay:
+  Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+  Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+  The waves beside them danced; but they
+  Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
+  A poet could not but be gay
+  In such a jocund company;
+  I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
+  What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+  For oft, when on my couch I lie
+  In vacant or in pensive mood,
+  They flash upon that inward eye
+  Which is the bliss of solitude;
+  And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+  And dances with the daffodils.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+TO DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
+      You haste away so soon;
+  As yet the early-rising Sun
+      Has not attained his noon;
+          Stay, stay,
+      Until the hasting day
+          Has run
+      But to the evensong;
+  And, having prayed together, we
+      Will go with you along.
+  We have short time to stay, as you;
+      We have as short a spring;
+  As quick a growth to meet decay
+      As you, or anything:
+          We die,
+      As your hours do, and dry
+          Away
+      Like to the summer's rain;
+  Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
+      Ne'er to be found again.
+
+                                                       ROBERT HERRICK.
+
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+  Daffodils
+    That come before the swallow dares, and take
+  The winds of March with beauty.
+
+"_A Winter's Tale._"
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+THE HONEY-BEE.
+
+
+  For so work the honey-bees,
+  Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
+  The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
+  They have a king and officers of sorts;
+  Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
+  Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
+  Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
+  Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
+  Which pillage they with merry march bring home
+  To the tent-royal of their emperor;
+  Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
+  The singing masons building roofs of gold,
+  The civil citizens, kneading up the honey,
+  The poor mechanic porters crowding in
+  Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate.
+
+"_King Henry V._"
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD.
+
+
+  Upon the mountain's distant head,
+    With trackless snows forever white,
+  Where all is still, and cold, and dead,
+    Late shines the day's departing light.
+
+  But far below those icy rocks,
+    The vales in summer bloom arrayed,
+  Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks,
+    Are dim with mist and dark with shade.
+
+  'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,
+    And eyes whose generous meanings burn,
+  Earliest the light of life departs,
+    But lingers with the cold and stern.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: LORD BYRON.]
+
+OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
+
+
+  Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
+  Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
+  Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
+  Mourn--where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell!
+
+  And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
+  And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?
+  And Judah's melody once more rejoice
+  The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?
+
+  Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
+  How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
+  The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
+  Mankind their country--Israel but the grave.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
+
+
+  The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
+  And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
+  And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
+  When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
+
+  Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
+  That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
+  Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
+  That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
+
+  For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
+  And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
+  And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
+  And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!
+
+  And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
+  But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
+  And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
+  And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
+
+  And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
+  With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
+  And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
+  The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
+
+  And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
+  And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
+  And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
+  Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+HOLY, HOLY, HOLY.
+
+
+  Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
+    Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
+  Holy, holy, holy! merciful and mighty!
+    All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea.
+
+  Holy, holy, holy! all the saints adore Thee,
+    Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
+  Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee,
+    Which wert and art and evermore shalt be!
+
+  Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide Thee,
+    Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see,
+  Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee,
+    Perfect in power, in love, and purity!
+
+                                        _Altered from_ REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+REBECCA'S HYMN.
+
+
+  When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
+    Out of the land of bondage came,
+  Her father's God before her moved,
+    An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
+  By day, along the astonished lands
+    The cloudy pillar glided slow;
+  By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
+    Returned the fiery column's glow.
+
+  There rose the choral hymn of praise,
+    And trump and timbrel answered keen,
+  And Zion's daughters poured their lays,
+    With priest's and warrior's voice between.
+  No portents now our foes amaze,
+    Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
+  Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
+    And Thou hast left them to their own.
+
+  But, present still, though now unseen,
+    When brightly shines the prosperous day,
+  Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen
+    To temper the deceitful ray.
+  And oh, when stoops on Judah's path
+    In shade and storm the frequent night,
+  Be Thou long-suffering, slow to wrath,
+    A burning and a shining light!
+
+  Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
+    The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
+  No censer round our altar beams,
+    And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
+  But Thou hast said, the blood of goat,
+    The flesh of rams I will not prize;
+  A contrite heart, an humble thought,
+    Are mine accepted sacrifice.
+
+_From "Ivanhoe."_
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+HOHENLINDEN.
+
+
+  On Linden, when the sun was low,
+  All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
+  And dark as winter was the flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+  But Linden saw another sight,
+  When the drum beat, at dead of night,
+  Commanding fires of death to light
+      The darkness of her scenery.
+
+  By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
+  Each horseman drew his battle blade,
+  And furious every charger neighed
+      To join the dreadful revelry.
+
+  Then shook the hills, with thunder riven
+  Then rushed the steed, to battle driven;
+  And louder than the bolts of Heaven,
+      Far flashed the red artillery.
+
+  But redder yet that light shall glow
+  On Linden's hills of stained snow;
+  And bloodier yet the torrent flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+  'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
+  Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun,
+  Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
+      Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
+
+  The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
+  Who rush to glory, or the grave!
+  Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
+      And charge with all thy chivalry!
+
+  Few, few shall part, where many meet!
+  The snow shall be their winding sheet;
+  And every turf beneath their feet
+      Shall be a soldier's sepulcher.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
+
+
+  Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
+    As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
+  Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
+    O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
+
+  We buried him darkly at dead of night,
+    The sods with our bayonets turning;
+  By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
+    And the lantern dimly burning.
+
+  No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
+    Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
+  But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
+    With his martial cloak around him.
+
+  Few and short were the prayers we said,
+    And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
+  But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
+    And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
+
+  We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
+    And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
+  That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
+    And we far away on the billow!
+
+  Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
+    And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
+  But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
+    In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
+
+  But half of our heavy task was done
+    When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
+  And we heard the distant and random gun
+    That the foe was sullenly firing.
+
+  Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
+    From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
+  We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone--
+    But we left him alone with his glory!
+
+                                                        CHARLES WOLFE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT.]
+
+PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.
+
+
+  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
+    Pibroch of Donuil,
+  Wake thy wild voice anew,
+    Summon Clan Conuil.
+  Come away, come away,
+    Hark to the summons!
+  Come in your war array,
+    Gentles and commons.
+
+  Come from deep glen, and
+    From mountains so rocky;
+  The war pipe and pennon
+    Are at Inverlocky.
+  Come every hill plaid, and
+    True heart that wears one,
+  Come every steel blade, and
+    Strong hand that bears one.
+
+  Leave untended the herd,
+    The flock without shelter;
+  Leave the corpse uninterred,
+    The bride at the altar;
+  Leave the deer, leave the steer,
+    Leave nets and barges;
+  Come with your fighting gear,
+    Broadswords and targes.
+
+  Come as the winds come, when
+    Forests are rended;
+  Come as the waves come, when
+    Navies are stranded;
+  Faster come, faster come,
+    Faster and faster,
+  Chief, vassal, page, and groom,
+    Tenant and master.
+
+  Fast they come, fast they come;
+    See how they gather!
+  Wide waves the eagle plume
+    Blended with heather.
+  Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
+    Forward each man set!
+  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
+    Knell for the onset!
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.
+
+
+  Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered,
+    And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
+  And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
+    The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
+
+  When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
+    By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
+  At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw;
+    And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
+
+  Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array
+    Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate track;
+  'Twas autumn,--and sunshine arose on the way
+    To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
+
+  I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
+    In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
+  I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,
+    And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung.
+
+  Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore
+    From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
+  My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
+    And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart.
+
+  "Stay, stay with us!--rest! thou art weary and worn!"
+    And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;--
+  But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
+    And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD.
+
+
+  Home they brought her warrior dead:
+    She nor swooned, nor uttered cry;
+  All her maidens, watching, said,
+    "She must weep or she will die."
+
+  Then they praised him, soft and low,
+    Called him worthy to be loved,
+  Truest friend and noblest foe;
+    Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
+
+  Stole a maiden from her place,
+    Lightly to the warrior stept,
+  Took the face cloth from the face;
+    Yet she neither moved nor wept.
+
+  Rose a nurse of ninety years,
+    Set his child upon her knee--
+  Like summer tempest came her tears--
+    "Sweet my child, I live for thee."
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
+
+ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
+
+
+  Now Nature hangs her mantle green
+    On every blooming tree,
+  And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
+    Out o'er the grassy lea:
+  Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
+    And glads the azure skies;
+  But nought can glad the weary wight
+    That fast in durance lies.
+
+  Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,
+    Aloft on dewy wing;
+  The merle, in his noon-tide bower,
+    Makes woodland echoes ring;
+  The mavis wild wi' mony a note
+    Sings drowsy day to rest:
+  In love and freedom they rejoice,
+    Wi' care nor thrall opprest.
+
+  Now blooms the lily by the bank,
+    The primrose down the brae;
+  The hawthorne's budding in the glen,
+    And milk-white is the slae;
+  The meanest hind in fair Scotland
+    May rove their sweets amang;
+  But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
+    Maun lie in prison strang!
+
+  I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
+    Where happy I hae been;
+  Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
+    As blythe lay down at e'en:
+  And I'm the sov'reign o' Scotland,
+    And mony a traitor there;
+  Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
+    And never-ending care.
+
+  My son! my son! may kinder stars
+    Upon thy fortune shine;
+  And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
+    That ne'er wad blink on mine!
+  God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
+    Or turn their hearts to thee:
+  And, where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
+    Remember him for me!
+
+  Oh! soon, to me, may summer suns
+    Nae mair light up the morn!
+  Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
+    Wave o'er the yellow corn!
+  And in the narrow house o' death
+    Let winter round me rave;
+  And the next flow'rs that deck the spring
+    Bloom on my peaceful grave!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL.
+
+
+  By cool Siloam's shady rill
+    How sweet the lily grows!
+  How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+    Of Sharon's dewy rose!
+
+  Lo, such the child whose early feet
+    The paths of peace have trod;
+  Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
+    Is upward drawn to God.
+
+  By cool Siloam's shady rill
+    The lily must decay;
+  The rose that blooms beneath the hill
+    Must shortly fade away.
+
+                                                       REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+THE SELKIRK GRACE.
+
+
+  Some hae meat and canna eat,
+    And some wad eat that want it;
+  But we hae meat and we can eat,
+    And sae the Lord be thankit.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVE OF GOD.
+
+
+  All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,
+  Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
+  The forms of men shall be as they had never been;
+  The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green;
+  The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song,
+  And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long.
+  The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,
+  And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.
+  The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox,
+  The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,
+  And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie;
+  And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale, shall die.
+  And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be no more,
+  And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore;
+  And the great globe itself, so the holy writings tell,
+  With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell,
+  Shall melt with fervent heat--they shall all pass away,
+  Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+_From the Provencal of Bernard Rascas._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE.
+
+
+    Come, let us plant the apple tree.
+  Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
+  Wide let its hollow bed be made;
+  There gently lay the roots, and there
+  Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
+    And press it o'er them tenderly,
+  As, round the sleeping infant's feet
+  We softly fold the cradle sheet;
+    So plant we the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Buds, which the breath of summer days
+  Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
+  Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
+  Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest;
+    We plant, upon the sunny lea,
+  A shadow for the noontide hour,
+  A shelter from the summer shower,
+    When we plant the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
+  To load the May wind's restless wings,
+  When, from the orchard row, he pours
+  Its fragrance through our open doors;
+    A world of blossoms for the bee,
+  Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
+  For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,
+    We plant with the apple tree.
+
+    What plant we in this apple tree?
+  Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
+  And redden in the August noon,
+  And drop, when gentle airs come by,
+  That fan the blue September sky,
+    While children come, with cries of glee,
+  And seek them where the fragrant grass
+  Betrays their bed to those who pass,
+    At the foot of the apple tree.
+
+    And when, above this apple tree,
+  The winter stars are quivering bright,
+  And winds go howling through the night,
+  Girls, whose young eyes overflow with mirth,
+  Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,
+    And guests in prouder homes shall see,
+  Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine
+  And golden orange of the line,
+    The fruit of the apple tree.
+
+    The fruitage of this apple tree
+  Winds, and our flag of stripe and star,
+  Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
+  Where men shall wonder at the view,
+  And ask in what fair groves they grew;
+    And sojourners beyond the sea
+  Shall think of childhood's careless day
+  And long, long hours of summer play,
+    In the shade of the apple tree.
+
+    Each year shall give this apple tree
+  A broader flush of roseate bloom,
+  A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,
+  And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,
+  The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.
+    The years shall come and pass, but we
+  Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
+  The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,
+    In the boughs of the apple tree.
+
+    And time shall waste this apple tree.
+  Oh, when its aged branches throw
+  Thin shadows on the ground below,
+  Shall fraud and force and iron will
+  Oppress the weak and helpless still?
+    What shall the tasks of mercy be,
+  Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears,
+  Of those who live when length of years
+    Is wasting this apple tree?
+
+    "Who planted this old apple tree?"
+  The children of that distant day
+  Thus to some aged man shall say;
+  And, gazing on its mossy stem,
+  The gray-haired man shall answer them:
+    "A poet of the land was he,
+  Born in the rude but good old times;
+  'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes
+    On planting the apple tree."
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+A FINE DAY.
+
+
+  Clear had the day been from the dawn,
+    All chequer'd was the sky,
+  Thin clouds like scarfs of cobweb lawn
+    Veiled heaven's most glorious eye.
+  The wind had no more strength than this,
+    That leisurely it blew,
+  To make one leaf the next to kiss,
+    That closely by it grew.
+
+                                                      MICHAEL DRAYTON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SUMMER SHOWER.
+
+
+    Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain,
+    As when the strong storm wind is reaping the plain;
+    And loiters the boy in the briery lane;
+    But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain,
+  Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall.
+
+    Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet,
+    It dashes the dust with its numberless feet.
+    Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat,
+    The wild birds sit listening, the drops round them beat;
+  And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall.
+
+    The swallows alone take the storm on their wing,
+    And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing;
+    Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring,
+    While a bubble darts up from each widening ring;
+  And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.
+
+    But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves;
+    The robin darts out from his bower of leaves;
+    The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves;
+    And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives
+  That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all.
+
+                                                 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+
+
+MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD.
+
+
+  My heart leaps up when I behold
+      A rainbow in the sky:
+  So was it when my life began;
+  So is it now I am a man;
+  So be it when I shall grow old,
+      Or let me die!
+  The Child is father of the Man;
+  And I could wish my days to be
+  Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+O WAD SOME POWER.
+
+
+  O Wad some Power the giftie gie us
+  To see oursel's as others see us!
+  It wad frae mony a blunder free us
+              An' foolish notion;
+  What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
+              And ev'n devotion!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+SPRING.
+
+
+  Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
+  Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring;
+  Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
+
+  The palm and may make country houses gay,
+  Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day;
+  And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
+
+  The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
+  Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit;
+  In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
+      Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
+        Spring! the sweet spring!
+
+                                                          THOMAS NASH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SKYLARK.
+
+
+    Bird of the wilderness,
+    Blithesome and cumberless,
+  Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
+    Emblem of happiness,
+    Blest is thy dwelling-place--
+  Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!
+
+    Wild is thy lay and loud,
+    Far in the downy cloud,
+  Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
+    Where, on thy dewy wing,
+    Where art thou journeying?
+  Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
+
+    O'er fell and fountain sheen,
+    O'er moor and mountain green,
+  O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
+    Over the cloudlet dim,
+    Over the rainbow's rim,
+  Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
+
+    Then, when the gloaming comes,
+    Low in the heather blooms
+  Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
+    Emblem of happiness,
+    Best is thy dwelling-place--
+  Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!
+
+                                                           JAMES HOGG.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE CUCKOO.
+
+
+  O Blithe newcomer! I have heard,
+    I hear thee and rejoice.
+  O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
+    Or but a wandering voice?
+
+  While I am lying on the grass
+    Thy twofold shout I hear,
+  From hill to hill it seems to pass,
+    At once far off and near!
+
+  Though babbling only to the vale,
+    Of sunshine and of flowers,
+  Thou bringest unto me a tale
+    Of visionary hours.
+
+  Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!
+    Even yet thou art to me
+  No bird, but an invisible thing,
+    A voice, a mystery;
+
+  The same whom in my schoolboy days
+    I listened to; that cry
+  Which made me look a thousand ways
+    In bush, and tree, and sky.
+
+  To seek thee did I often rove
+    Through woods and on the green;
+  And thou wert still a hope, a love;
+    Still longed for, never seen.
+
+  And I can listen to thee yet;
+    Can lie upon the plain
+  And listen, till I do beget
+    That golden time again.
+
+  O blessed bird! the earth we pace
+    Again appears to be
+  An unsubstantial, fairy place:
+    That is fit home for thee!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+A GREEN CORNFIELD.
+
+"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."
+
+
+  The earth was green, the sky was blue:
+    I saw and heard one sunny morn
+  A skylark hang between the two,
+    A singing speck above the corn;
+
+  A stage below, in gay accord,
+    White butterflies danced on the wing,
+  And still the singing skylark soared
+    And silent sank, and soared to sing.
+
+  The cornfield stretched a tender green
+    To right and left beside my walks;
+  I knew he had a nest unseen
+    Somewhere among the million stalks:
+
+  And as I paused to hear his song
+    While swift the sunny moments slid,
+  Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
+    And listened longer than I did.
+
+                                                CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+MARCH.
+
+
+  The stormy March is come at last
+    With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;
+  I hear the rushing of the blast,
+    That through the snowy valley flies.
+
+  Ah, passing few are those who speak,
+    Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee;
+  Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
+    Thou art a welcome month to me.
+
+  For thou, to northern lands, again
+    The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
+  And thou hast joined the gentle train
+    And wear'st the gentle name of spring.
+
+  And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
+    Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
+  When the changed winds are soft and warm,
+    And Heaven puts on the blue of May.
+
+  Then sing aloud the gushing rills
+    In joy that they again are free,
+  And, brightly leaping down the hills,
+    Begin their journey to the sea.
+
+  The year's departing beauty hides
+    Of wintry storms the sullen threat;
+  But in thy sternest frown abides
+    A look of kindly promise yet.
+
+  Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,
+    And that soft time of sunny showers,
+  When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,
+    Seems of a brighter world than ours.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+THE INCHCAPE ROCK.
+
+
+  No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
+  The ship was still as she could be;
+  Her sails from heaven received no motion,
+  Her keel was steady in the ocean.
+
+  Without either sign or sound of their shock
+  The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
+  So little they rose, so little they fell,
+  They did not move the Inchcape bell.
+
+  The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok
+  Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
+  On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
+  And over the waves its warning rung.
+
+  When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell,
+  The mariners heard the warning bell;
+  And then they knew the perilous Rock,
+  And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
+
+  The sun in heaven was shining gay,
+  All things were joyful on that day;
+  The seabirds screamed as they wheeled around,
+  And there was joyance in their sound.
+
+  The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen
+  A darker speck on the ocean green;
+  Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
+  And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
+
+  He felt the cheering power of spring,
+  It made him whistle, it made him sing;
+  His heart was mirthful to excess,
+  But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
+
+  His eye was on the Inchcape float;
+  Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
+  And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
+  And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok."
+
+  The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
+  And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
+  Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
+  And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
+
+  Down sunk the bell, with a gurgling sound,
+  The bubbles rose and burst around;
+  Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock
+  Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."
+
+  Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;
+  He scoured the seas for many a day;
+  And now grown rich with plunder's store,
+  He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
+
+  So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
+  They cannot see the sun on high;
+  The wind hath blown a gale all day,
+  At evening it hath died away.
+
+  On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
+  So dark it is they see no land.
+  Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
+  For there is the dawn of the rising moon."
+
+  "Can'st hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
+  For methinks we should be near the shore;
+  Now where we are I cannot tell,
+  But I wish I could hear the Inchcape bell."
+
+  They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
+  Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
+  Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;
+  Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock!"
+
+  Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
+  And curst himself in his despair;
+  The waves rush in on every side,
+  The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
+
+  But even in his dying fear
+  One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
+  A sound as if with the Inchcape bell
+  The fiends below were ringing his knell.
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
+
+
+  Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,
+    By famous Hanover city;
+    The river Weser deep and wide
+    Washes its walls on the southern side;
+    A pleasanter spot you never spied;
+  But, when begins my ditty,
+    Almost five hundred years ago,
+  To see the townsfolk suffer so
+    From vermin, was a pity.
+
+    Rats!
+  They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
+    And bit the babies in their cradles,
+  And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
+    And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles,
+  Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
+  Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
+  And even spoiled the women's chats,
+    By drowning their speaking
+    With shrieking and squeaking
+  In fifty different sharps and flats.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT BROWNING.]
+
+  At last the people in a body
+    To the town hall came flocking:
+  "'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy:
+    And as for our Corporation--shocking
+  To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
+    For dolts that can't or won't determine
+    What's best to rid us of our vermin!
+    You hope, because you're old and obese,
+    To find in the furry civic robe ease!
+  Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking
+  To find the remedy we're lacking,
+  Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!
+  At this the Mayor and Corporation
+  Quaked with a mighty consternation.
+
+  An hour they sat in council;
+    At length the Mayor broke silence:
+  "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;
+    I wish I were a mile hence!
+  It's easy to bid one rack one's brain--
+  I'm sure my poor head aches again,
+  I've scratched it so, and all in vain.
+  Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!"
+  Just as he said this, what should hap
+  At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
+  "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?
+  Anything like the sound of a rat
+  Makes my heart go pitapat!
+
+  "Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger;
+  And in did come the strangest figure!
+  His queer long coat from heel to head
+  Was half of yellow and half of red;
+  And he himself was tall and thin,
+  With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
+  And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
+  No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin,
+  But lips where smiles went out and in--
+  There was no guessing his kith and kin!
+  And nobody could enough admire
+  The tall man and his quaint attire:
+  Quoth one, "It's as my great-grandsire,
+  Starting up at the trump of Doom's tone,
+  Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"
+
+  He advanced to the council table:
+  And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able,
+  By means of a secret charm, to draw
+  All creatures living beneath the sun,
+  That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,
+  After me so as you never saw!
+  And I chiefly use my charm
+  On creatures that do people harm,
+  The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper;
+  And people call me the Pied Piper."
+  And here they noticed round his neck
+    A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
+  To match with his coat of the selfsame check;
+    And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;
+  And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying,
+  As if impatient to be playing
+  Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
+  Over his vesture so old fangled.
+  "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am,
+  In Tartary I freed the Cham,
+  Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
+  I eased in Asia the Nizam
+  Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats:
+  And as for what your brain bewilders,
+  If I can rid your town of rats
+    Will you give me a thousand guilders?"
+    "One? fifty thousand!" was the exclamation
+  Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
+
+  Into the street the Piper stept,
+    Smiling first a little smile,
+  As if he knew what magic slept
+    In his quiet pipe the while;
+  Then like a musical adept,
+  To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
+  And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
+  Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled;
+  And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered,
+  You heard as if an army muttered;
+  And the muttering grew into a grumbling;
+  And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
+  And out of the houses the rats came tumbling--
+  Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
+  Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
+  Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
+    Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
+  Curling tails, and pricking whiskers,
+    Families by tens and dozens,
+  Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives,--
+  Followed the Piper for their lives.
+  From street to street he piped, advancing,
+  And step for step they followed, dancing,
+  Until they came to the river Weser
+  Wherein all plunged and perished,
+  Save one, who stout as Julius Caesar,
+  Swam across, and lived to carry
+  (As he the manuscript he cherished)
+  To Rat-land home his commentary,
+  Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe,
+  I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
+  And putting apples wondrous ripe
+  Into a cider press's gripe;
+  And a moving away of pickle-tub boards,
+  And a leaving ajar of conserve cupboards,
+  And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks,
+  And a breaking the hoops of butter casks;
+  And it seemed as if a voice
+  (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
+  Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice!
+  The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!
+  So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
+  Breakfast, dinner, supper, luncheon!
+  And just as a bulky sugar puncheon,
+  All ready staved, like a great sun shone
+  Glorious, scarce an inch before me,
+  Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!'
+  --I found the Weser rolling o'er me."
+
+  You should have heard the Hamelin people
+  Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;
+  "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles!
+  Poke out the nests, and block up the holes!
+  Consult with carpenters and builders,
+  And leave in town not even a trace
+  Of the rats!" When suddenly up the face
+  Of the Piper perked in the market place,
+  With a "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"
+
+  A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
+  So did the Corporation too.
+  For council dinners made rare havoc
+  With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
+  And half the money would replenish
+  Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
+  To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
+  With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
+  "Besides," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,
+  "Our business was done at the river's brink;
+  We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
+  And what's dead can't come to life, I think.
+  So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink
+  From the duty of giving you something for drink,
+  And a matter of money to put in your poke;
+  But, as for the guilders, what we spoke
+  Of them, as you very well know, was in joke--
+  Beside, our losses have made us thrifty:
+  A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"
+
+  The Piper's face fell, and he cried,
+  "No trifling! I can't wait; beside
+  I've promised to visit by dinner time
+  Bagdat, and accept the prime
+  Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in,
+  For having left in the Caliph's kitchen,
+  Of a nest of scorpions no survivor.
+  With him I proved no bargain-driver;
+  With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!
+  And folks who put me in a passion
+  May find me pipe to another fashion."
+  "How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook
+  Being worse treated than a cook?
+  Insulted by a lazy ribald
+  With idle pipe and vesture piebald?
+  You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
+  Blow your pipe there till you burst!"
+
+  Once more he stept into the street,
+    And to his lips again
+  Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane;
+    And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
+  Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
+    Never gave the enraptured air),
+  There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling,
+  Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
+  Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
+  Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
+  And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,
+  Out came the children running:
+  All the little boys and girls,
+  With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
+  And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
+  Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
+  The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
+
+  The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
+  As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
+  Unable to move a step, or cry
+  To the children merrily skipping by,--
+  And could only follow with the eye
+  That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
+  And now the Mayor was on the rack,
+  And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
+  As the Piper turned from the High Street
+  To where the Weser rolled its waters
+  Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
+  However, he turned from south to west,
+  And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
+  And after him the children pressed;
+  Great was the joy in every breast.
+  "He never can cross that mighty top!
+  He's forced to let the piping drop,
+  And we shall see our children stop!"
+  When, lo! as they reached the mountain's side,
+  A wondrous portal opened wide,
+  As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
+  And the Piper advanced, and the children followed;
+  And when all were in to the very last,
+  The door in the mountain side shut fast.
+  Did I say, all? No! one was lame,
+  And could not dance the whole of the way;
+  And in after years, if you would blame
+  His sadness, he was used to say,--
+  "It's dull in our town since my playmates left!
+  I can't forget that I'm bereft
+  Of all the pleasant sights they see,
+  Which the Piper also promised me:
+  For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
+  Joining the town and just at hand,
+  Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,
+  And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
+  And everything was strange and new;
+  The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
+  And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
+  And honeybees had lost their stings,
+  And horses were born with eagles' wings;
+  And just as I became assured
+  My lame foot would be speedily cured,
+  The music stopped and I stood still,
+  And found myself outside the hill,
+  Left alone against my will,
+  To go now limping as before,
+  And never hear of that country more!"
+
+[Illustration: THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
+
+H. KAULBACH.]
+
+  The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south,
+  To offer the Piper by word of mouth,
+    Wherever it was man's lot to find him,
+  Silver and gold to his heart's content,
+  If he'd only return the way he went,
+    And bring the children behind him.
+  But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,
+  And Piper and dancers were gone forever,
+  They made a decree that lawyers never
+    Should think their records dated duly,
+  If after the day of the month and year
+  These words did not as well appear,
+    "And so long after what happened here
+    On the twenty-second of July,
+  Thirteen hundred and seventy-six."
+  And the better in memory to fix
+  The place of the children's last retreat,
+  They called it the Pied Piper's Street--
+  Where any one playing on pipe or tabor,
+  Was sure for the future to lose his labor.
+  Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
+    To shock with mirth a street so solemn;
+  But opposite the place of the cavern
+    They wrote the story on a column,
+  And on the great church window painted
+  The same, to make the world acquainted
+  How their children were stolen away;
+  And there it stands to this very day.
+
+  And I must not omit to say
+  That in Transylvania there's a tribe
+  Of alien people, that ascribe
+  The outlandish ways and dress
+  On which their neighbors lay such stress,
+  To their fathers and mothers having risen
+  Out of some subterraneous prison,
+  Into which they were trepanned
+  Long ago in a mighty band,
+  Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land;
+  But how or why, they don't understand.
+
+  So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
+  Of scores out with all men,--especially pipers;
+  And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
+  If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+INGRATITUDE.
+
+
+  Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
+  Thou art not so unkind
+    As man's ingratitude;
+  Thy tooth is not so keen,
+  Because thou art not seen,
+    Although thy breath be rude.
+
+  Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
+  Thou dost not bite so nigh
+    As benefits forgot:
+  Though thou the waters warp,
+  Thy sting is not so sharp
+    As friend remembered not.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+_From "As You Like It."_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A SONG OF THE SEA.
+
+
+  The sea! the sea! the open sea!
+  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+  Without a mark, without a bound,
+  It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+  It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,
+  Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+  I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea!
+  I am where I would ever be;
+  With the blue above, and the blue below,
+  And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+  If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+  What matter? I shall ride and sleep.
+
+  I love (O! how I love) to ride
+  On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
+  When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+  Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+  And tells how goeth the world below,
+  And why the southwest blasts do blow.
+
+  I never was on the dull, tame shore,
+  But I loved the great sea more and more,
+  And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+  Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+  And a mother she was and is to me;
+  For I was born on the open sea!
+
+  The waves were white, and red the morn,
+  In the noisy hour when I was born;
+  And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
+  And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+  And never was heard such an outcry wild
+  As welcomed to life the ocean child!
+
+  I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+  Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+  With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
+  But never have sought, nor sighed for change;
+  And Death, whenever he come to me,
+  Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea!
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+
+
+
+AT SEA.
+
+
+  A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+    A wind that follows fast
+  And fills the white and rustling sail
+    And bends the gallant mast;
+  And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+    While like the eagle free
+  Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+    Old England on the lee.
+
+  "Oh for a soft and gentle wind!"
+    I heard a fair one cry;
+  But give to me the snoring breeze
+    And white waves heaving high;
+  And white waves heaving high, my lads,
+    The good ship tight and free:--
+  The world of waters is our home,
+    And merry men are we.
+
+  There's tempest in yon horned moon,
+    And lightning in yon cloud;
+  But hark the music, mariners!
+    The wind is piping loud;
+  The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+    The lightning flashes free:--
+  While the hollow oak our palace is,
+    Our heritage the sea.
+
+                                                     ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE NORTHERN SEAS.
+
+
+  Up! up! let us a voyage take;
+    Why sit we here at ease?
+  Find us a vessel tight and snug,
+    Bound for the northern seas.
+
+  I long to see the northern lights
+    With their rushing splendors fly,
+  Like living things with flaming wings,
+    Wide o'er the wondrous sky.
+
+  I long to see those icebergs vast,
+    With heads all crowned with snow,
+  Whose green roots sleep in the awful deep,
+    Two hundred fathoms low.
+
+  I long to hear the thundering crash
+    Of their terrific fall,
+  And the echoes from a thousand cliffs
+    Like lonely voices call.
+
+  There shall we see the fierce white bear,
+    The sleepy seals aground,
+  And the spouting whales that to and fro
+    Sail with a dreary sound.
+
+  There may we tread on depths of ice,
+    That the hairy mammoth hide;
+  Perfect as when, in times of old,
+    The mighty creature died.
+
+  And while the unsetting sun shines on
+    Through the still heaven's deep blue,
+  We'll traverse the azure waves, the herds
+    Of the dread sea horse to view.
+
+  We'll pass the shores of solemn pine,
+    Where wolves and black bears prowl;
+  And away to the rocky isles of mist,
+    To rouse the northern fowl.
+
+  Up there shall start ten thousand wings
+    With a rustling, whistling din;
+  Up shall the auk and fulmar start,
+    All but the fat penguin.
+
+  And there in the wastes of the silent sky,
+    With the silent earth below,
+  We shall see far off to his lonely rock
+    The lonely eagle go.
+
+  Then softly, softly will we tread
+    By inland streams, to see
+  Where the pelican of the silent North
+    Sits there all silently.
+
+                                                          MARY HOWITT.
+
+
+
+
+THE CORAL GROVE.
+
+
+  Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
+  Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;
+  Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue,
+  That never are wet with the falling dew;
+  But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
+  Far down in the green and glassy brine.
+  The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift,
+  And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow;
+  From coral rocks the sea plants lift
+  Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow.
+  The water is calm and still below,
+  For the winds and waves are absent there,
+  And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
+  In the motionless fields of upper air.
+  There, with its waving blade of green,
+  The sea flag streams through the silent water,
+  And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen
+  To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter;
+  There, with a light and easy motion,
+  The fan coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea;
+  And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean
+  Are bending like corn on the upland lea:
+  And life in rare and beautiful forms
+  Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
+  And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms
+  Has made the top of the waves his own:
+  And when the ship from his fury flies,
+  When the myriad voices of ocean roar,
+  When the wind god frowns in the murky skies,
+  And demons are waiting the wreck on shore,
+  Then, far below, in the peaceful sea,
+  The purple mullet and goldfish rove,
+  Where the waters murmur tranquilly
+  Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.
+
+                                                 JAMES GATES PERCIVAL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ALICE BRAND.
+
+
+  Merry it is in the good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,
+  When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
+    And the hunter's horn is ringing.
+
+  "O Alice Brand, my native land
+    Is lost for love of you;
+  And we must hold by wood and wold,
+    As outlaws wont to do!
+
+  "O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
+    And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
+  That on the night of our luckless flight,
+    Thy brother bold I slew.
+
+  "Now I must teach to hew the beech
+    The hand that held the glaive,
+  For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
+    And stakes to fence our cave.
+
+  "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,
+    That wont on harp to stray,
+  A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
+    To keep the cold away."
+
+  "O Richard! if my brother died,
+    'Twas but a fatal chance:
+  For darkling was the battle tried,
+    And fortune sped the lance.
+
+  "If pall and vair no more I wear,
+    Nor thou the crimson sheen,
+  As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray;
+    As gay the forest green.
+
+  "And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
+    And lost thy native land,
+  Still Alice has her own Richard,
+    And he his Alice Brand."
+
+
+II.
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
+  On the beech's pride and oak's brown side,
+    Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
+
+  Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
+    Who wonn'd within the hill,--
+  Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
+    His voice was ghostly shrill.
+
+  "Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak,
+    Our moonlight circle's screen?
+  Or who comes here to chase the deer,
+    Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
+  Or who may dare on wold to wear
+    The fairies' fatal green?
+
+  "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
+    For thou wert christened man:
+  For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
+    For muttered word or ban.
+
+  "Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
+    The curse of the sleepless eye;
+  Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
+    Nor yet find leave to die!"
+
+
+III.
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    Though the birds have stilled their singing;
+  The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
+    And Richard is fagots bringing.
+
+  Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
+    Before Lord Richard stands,
+  And as he crossed and blessed himself,
+  "I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,
+    "That is made with bloody hands."
+
+  But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
+    That woman void of fear,--
+  "And if there's blood upon his hand,
+    'Tis but the blood of deer."
+
+  "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
+    It cleaves unto his hand,
+  The stain of thine own kindly blood,
+    The blood of Ethert Brand."
+
+  Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
+    And made the holy sign,--
+  "And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
+    A spotless hand is mine.
+
+  "And I conjure thee, Demon elf,
+    By Him whom Demons fear,
+  To show us whence thou art thyself,
+    And what thine errand here?"
+
+
+IV.
+
+  "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland,
+    When fairy birds are singing,
+  When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
+    With bit and bridle ringing:
+
+  "And gayly shines the Fairyland--
+    But all is glistening show,
+  Like the idle gleam that December's beam
+    Can dart on ice and snow.
+
+  "And fading, like that varied gleam,
+    Is our inconstant shape,
+  Who now like knight and lady seem,
+    And now like dwarf and ape.
+
+  "It was between the night and day,
+    When the Fairy King has power,
+  That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
+  And 'twixt life and death, was snatched away,
+    To the joyless Elfin bower.
+
+  "But wist I of a woman bold,
+    Who thrice my brow durst sign,
+  I might regain my mortal mold,
+    As fair a form as thine."
+
+  She crossed him once--she crossed him twice--
+    That lady was so brave;
+  The fouler grew his goblin hue,
+    The darker grew the cave.
+
+  She crossed him thrice, that lady bold!
+    He rose beneath her hand
+  The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
+    Her brother, Ethert Brand!
+
+  Merry it is in good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing;
+  But merrier were they in Dumfermline gray
+    When all the bells were ringing.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
+
+
+  Is there, for honest poverty,
+    That hangs his head, and a' that?
+  The coward slave, we pass him by,
+    We dare be poor for a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+  The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
+    The man's the gowd for a' that!
+
+  What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
+    Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+  Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+    A man's a man, for a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+  The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+    Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+  Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
+    Wha struts, and stares, and a' that:
+  Though hundreds worship at his word,
+    He's but a coof for a' that:
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    His riband, star, and a' that;
+  The man of independent mind,
+    He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT BURNS.]
+
+  A king can make a belted knight,
+    A marquis, duke, and a' that;
+  But an honest man's aboon his might!
+    Guid faith, he mauna fa' that;
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    Their dignities, and a' that;
+  The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+    Are higher ranks than a' that.
+
+  Then let us pray that come it may--
+    As come it will, for a' that--
+  That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+    May bear the gree, and a' that!
+  For a' that, and a' that,
+    It's comin' yet for a' that;
+  That man to man, the warld o'er,
+    Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.
+
+
+  Now ponder well, you parents dear,
+    These words which I shall write;
+  A doleful story you shall hear,
+    In time brought forth to light.
+  A gentleman of good account
+    In Norfolk dwelt of late,
+  Who did in honor far surmount
+    Most men of his estate.
+
+  Sore sick he was, and like to die,
+    No help his life could save;
+  His wife by him as sick did lie,
+    And both possessed one grave.
+  No love between these two was lost,
+    Each was to other kind;
+  In love they lived, in love they died,
+    And left two babes behind.
+
+  The one, a fine and pretty boy,
+    Not passing three years old;
+  The other, a girl more young than he,
+    And framed in beauty's mold.
+  The father left his little son,
+    As plainly doth appear,
+  When he to perfect age should come,
+    Three hundred pounds a year.
+
+  And to his little daughter Jane,
+    Five hundred pounds in gold,
+  To be paid down on her marriage day,
+    Which might not be controlled:
+  But if the children chanced to die
+    Ere they to age should come,
+  Their uncle should possess their wealth;
+    For so the will did run.
+
+  "Now, brother," said the dying man,
+    "Look to my children dear;
+  Be good unto my boy and girl,
+    No friends else have they here:
+  To God and you I recommend
+    My children dear this day;
+  But little while be sure we have
+    Within this world to stay.
+
+  "You must be father and mother both,
+    And uncle all in one;
+  God knows what will become of them
+    When I am dead and gone."
+  With that bespake their mother dear,
+    "O brother kind," quoth she,
+  "You are the man must bring our babes
+    To wealth or misery.
+
+  "And if you keep them carefully,
+    Then God will you reward;
+  But if you otherwise should deal,
+    God will your deeds regard."
+  With lips as cold as any stone,
+    They kissed their children small:
+  "God bless you both, my children dear;"
+     With that their tears did fall.
+
+  These speeches then their brother spake
+    To this sick couple there:
+  "The keeping of your little ones,
+    Sweet sister, do not fear.
+  God never prosper me or mine,
+    Nor aught else that I have,
+  If I do wrong your children dear
+    When you are laid in grave."
+
+  The parents being dead and gone,
+    The children home he takes,
+  And brings them straight unto his house,
+    Where much of them he makes.
+  He had not kept these pretty babes
+    A twelvemonth and a day,
+  But, for their wealth, he did devise
+    To make them both away.
+
+  He bargained with two ruffians strong
+    Which were of furious mood,
+  That they should take these children young
+    And slay them in a wood.
+  He told his wife an artful tale:
+    He would the children send
+  To be brought up in fair London,
+    With one that was his friend.
+
+  Away then went those pretty babes,
+    Rejoicing at that tide,
+  Rejoicing with a merry mind,
+    They should on cockhorse ride.
+  They prate and prattle pleasantly,
+    As they rode on the way,
+  To those that should their butchers be
+    And work their lives' decay.
+
+  So that the pretty speech they had,
+    Made murder's heart relent;
+  And they that undertook the deed
+    Full sore did now repent.
+  Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
+    Did vow to do his charge,
+  Because the wretch that hired him
+    Had paid him very large.
+
+  The other won't agree thereto,
+    So here they fall to strife;
+  With one another they did fight
+    About the children's life:
+  And he that was of mildest mood,
+    Did slay the other there,
+  Within an unfrequented wood:
+    The babes did quake for fear!
+
+  He took the children by the hand,
+    Tears standing in their eye,
+  And bade them straightway follow him,
+    And look they did not cry;
+  And two long miles he led them on,
+    While they for food complain:
+  "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread,
+    When I come back again."
+
+  These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
+    Went wandering up and down;
+  But never more could see the man
+    Approaching from the town:
+  Their pretty lips with blackberries
+    Were all besmeared and dyed,
+  And when they saw the darksome night,
+    They sat them down and cried.
+
+  Thus wandered these poor innocents
+    Till death did end their grief,
+  In one another's arms they died,
+    As wanting due relief.
+  No burial this pretty pair
+    Of any man received,
+  Till Robin Redbreast piously
+    Did cover them with leaves.
+
+  And now the heavy wrath of God
+    Upon their uncle fell;
+  Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
+    His conscience felt an hell:
+  His barns were fired, his goods consumed,
+    His lands were barren made,
+  His cattle died within the field,
+    And nothing with him stayed.
+
+  And in the voyage to Portugal
+    Two of his sons did die;
+  And to conclude, himself was brought
+    To want and misery.
+  He pawned and mortgaged all his land
+    Ere seven years came about.
+  And now at length this wicked act
+    Did by this means come out:
+
+  The fellow that did take in hand
+    These children for to kill,
+  Was for a robbery judged to die,
+    Such was God's blessed will.
+  Who did confess the very truth,
+    As here hath been displayed:
+  Their uncle having died in gaol,
+    Where he for debt was laid.
+
+  You that executors be made,
+    And overseers eke
+  Of children that be fatherless,
+    And infants mild and meek;
+  Take you example by this thing,
+    And yield to each his right,
+  Lest God with such like misery
+    Your wicked minds requite.
+
+                                                         _Old Ballad._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S HOME.
+
+
+  My banks they are furnished with bees,
+    Whose murmur invites one to sleep;
+  My grottoes are shaded with trees,
+    And my hills are white over with sheep.
+  I seldom have met with a loss,
+    Such health do my fountains bestow;
+  My fountains all bordered with moss,
+    Where the harebells and violets blow.
+
+  Not a pine in the grove is there seen,
+    But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;
+  Not a beech's more beautiful green,
+    But a sweetbrier entwines it around.
+  Not my fields in the prime of the year,
+    More charms than my cattle unfold;
+  Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
+    But it glitters with fishes of gold.
+
+  I have found out a gift for my fair,
+    I have found where the wood pigeons breed,
+  But let me such plunder forbear,
+    She will say 'twas a barbarous deed;
+  For he ne'er could be true, she averred,
+    Who would rob a poor bird of its young;
+  And I loved her the more when I heard
+    Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
+
+                                                    WILLIAM SHENSTONE.
+
+
+
+
+ON A SPANIEL CALLED "BEAU" KILLING A YOUNG BIRD.
+
+
+  A spaniel, Beau, that fares like you,
+    Well fed, and at his ease,--
+  Should wiser be than to pursue
+    Each trifle that he sees.
+
+  But you have killed a tiny bird,
+    Which flew not till to-day,
+  Against my orders, whom you heard
+    Forbidding you the prey.
+
+  Nor did you kill that you might eat,
+    And ease a doggish pain;
+  For him, though chased with furious heat,
+    You left where he was slain.
+
+  Nor was he of the thievish sort,
+    Or one whom blood allures;
+  But innocent was all his sport
+    Whom you have torn for yours.
+
+  My dog! what remedy remains,
+    Since, teach you all I can,
+  I see you, after all my pains,
+    So much resemble man?
+
+
+BEAU'S REPLY.
+
+  Sir, when I flew to seize the bird
+    In spite of your command,
+  A louder voice than yours I heard,
+    And harder to withstand.
+
+  You cried--"Forbear!" but in my breast
+    A mightier cried--"Proceed!"--
+  'Twas Nature, sir, whose strong behest
+    Impelled me to the deed.
+
+  Yet much as Nature I respect,
+    I ventured once to break
+  (As you perhaps may recollect)
+    Her precept for your sake;
+
+  And when your linnet on a day,
+    Passing his prison door,
+  Had fluttered all his strength away,
+    And panting pressed the floor:
+
+  Well knowing him a sacred thing,
+    Not destined to my tooth,
+  I only kissed his ruffled wing,
+    And licked the feathers smooth.
+
+  Let my obedience then excuse
+    My disobedience now,
+  Nor some reproof yourself refuse
+    From your aggrieved Bow-wow;
+
+  If killing birds be such a crime,
+    (Which I can hardly see),
+  What think you, sir, of killing Time
+    With verse addressed to me!
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+SWEET PEAS.
+
+A SELECTION.
+
+
+  Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:
+  With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,
+  And taper fingers catching at all things,
+  To bind them all about with tiny rings.
+  Linger awhile upon some bending planks
+  That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,
+  And watch intently Nature's gentle doings:
+  They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.
+  How silent comes the water round that bend!
+  Not the minutest whisper does it send
+  To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass
+  Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+
+
+CA' THE YOWES.
+
+
+  Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+  Ca' them where the heather grows,
+  Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Hark the mavis' evening sang
+  Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
+  Then a faulding let us gang,
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  We'll gae down by Cluden side,
+  Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
+  O'er the waves that sweetly glide
+      To the moon sae clearly.
+
+  Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
+  Where at moonshine midnight hours,
+  O'er the dewy bending flowers,
+      Fairies dance so cheery.
+
+  Ghaist nor bogie shalt thou fear;
+  Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
+  Nocht of ill may come thee near,
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Fair and lovely as thou art,
+  Thou hast stown my very heart;
+  I can die--but canna part--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+  Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+  Ca' them where the heather grows;
+  Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+SELECTIONS FROM A RHYMED LESSON.
+
+
+    Shalt thou be honest? Ask the worldly schools,
+  And all will tell thee knaves are busier fools;
+  Prudent? Industrious? Let not modern pens
+  Instruct "Poor Richard's" fellow citizens.
+
+    Be firm! one constant element in luck
+  Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck;
+  See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake's thrill,
+  Clung to its base, and greets the sunrise still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Yet in opinions look not always back;
+  Your wake is nothing, mind the coming track;
+  Leave what you've done for what you have to do;
+  Don't be "consistent," but be simply true.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Once more; speak clearly, if you speak at all;
+  Carve every word before you let it fall;
+  Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star,
+  Try over hard to roll the British R;
+  Do put your accents in the proper spot;
+  Don't,--let me beg you,--don't say "How?" for "What?"
+  And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,
+  Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful _urs_.
+
+                                                OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
+
+[Illustration: OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
+
+
+  The breaking waves dashed high
+    On a stern and rock-bound coast,
+  And the woods against a stormy sky
+    Their giant branches tossed;
+
+  And the heavy night hung dark
+    The hills and waters o'er,
+  When a band of exiles moored their bark
+    On the wild New England shore.
+
+  Not as the conqueror comes,
+    They, the true-hearted, came;
+  Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
+    And the trumpet that sings of fame;
+
+  Not as the flying come,
+    In silence and in fear;--
+  They shook the depths of the desert gloom
+    With their hymns of lofty cheer.
+
+  Amidst the storm they sang,
+    And the stars heard, and the sea;
+  And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
+    To the anthem of the free!
+
+  The ocean eagle soared
+    From his nest by the white wave's foam;
+  And the rocking pines of the forest roared--
+    This was their welcome home!
+
+  There were men with hoary hair
+    Amidst that pilgrim band;
+  Why had they come to wither there
+    Away from their childhood's land?
+
+  There was woman's fearless eye,
+    Lit by her deep love's truth;
+  There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
+    And the fiery heart of youth.
+
+  What sought they thus afar?
+    Bright jewels of the mine?
+  The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
+    They sought a faith's pure shrine!
+
+  Ay, call it holy ground,
+    The soil where first they trod.
+  They have left unstained what there they found--
+    Freedom to worship God.
+
+                                                       FELICIA HEMANS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM.
+
+A TRUE STORY.
+
+
+  The merry boats of Brixham
+    Go out to search the seas;
+  A stanch and sturdy fleet are they,
+    Who love a swinging breeze;
+  And before the woods of Devon,
+    And the silver cliffs of Wales,
+  You may see, when summer evenings fall,
+    The light upon their sails.
+
+  But when the year grows darker,
+    And gray winds hunt the foam,
+  They go back to Little Brixham,
+    And ply their toil at home.
+  And thus it chanced one winter's night,
+    When a storm began to roar,
+  That all the men were out at sea,
+    And all the wives on shore.
+
+  Then as the wind grew fiercer,
+    The women's cheeks grew white,--
+  It was fiercer in the twilight,
+    And fiercest in the night.
+  The strong clouds set themselves like ice,
+    Without a star to melt;
+  The blackness of the darkness
+    Was darkness to be felt.
+
+  The old men they were anxious,
+    They dreaded what they knew;
+  What do you think the women did?
+    Love taught them what to do!
+  Out spake a wife, "We've beds at home,
+    We'll burn them for a light,--
+  Give us the men and the bare ground,
+    We want no more to-night."
+
+  They took the grandame's blanket,
+    Who shivered and bade them go;
+  They took the baby's pillow,
+    Who could not say them no;
+  And they heaped a great fire on the pier,
+    And knew not all the while
+  If they were heaping a bonfire,
+    Or only a funeral pile.
+
+  And fed with precious food, the flame
+    Shone bravely on the black,
+  Till a cry rang through the people,
+    "A boat is coming back!"
+  Staggering dimly through the fog
+    Come shapes of fear and doubt,
+  But when the first prow strikes the pier,
+    Cannot you hear them shout?
+
+  Then all along the breath of flame,
+    Dark figures shrieked and ran,
+  With "Child, here comes your father!"
+    Or, "Wife, is this your man?"
+  And faint feet touch the welcome shore,
+    And wait a little while;
+  And kisses drop from frozen lips,
+    Too tired to speak or smile.
+
+  So, one by one, they struggled in
+    All that the sea would spare;
+  We will not reckon through our tears
+    The names that were not there;
+  But some went home without a bed,
+    When all the tale was told,
+  Who were too cold with sorrow
+    To know the night was cold.
+
+  And this is what the men must do
+    Who work in wind and foam;
+  And this is what the women bear
+    Who watch for them at home.
+  So when you see a Brixham boat
+    Go out to face the gales,
+  Think of the love that travels
+    Like light upon her sails.
+
+                                                           _Selected._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ALFRED TENNYSON.]
+
+THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
+
+
+  Half a league, half a league,
+  Half a league onward,
+  All in the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+  "Forward the Light Brigade!
+  Charge for the guns!" he said:
+  Into the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  "Forward the Light Brigade!"
+  Was there a man dismayed?
+  Not tho' the soldier knew
+    Some one had blundered:
+  Theirs not to make reply,
+  Theirs not to reason why,
+  Theirs but to do and die:
+  Into the valley of Death
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  Cannon to right of them,
+  Cannon to left of them,
+  Cannon in front of them
+    Volleyed and thundered;
+  Stormed at with shot and shell,
+  Boldly they rode and well,
+  Into the jaws of Death,
+  Into the mouth of Hell
+    Rode the six hundred.
+
+  Flashed all their sabers bare,
+  Flashed as they turned in air
+  Sab'ring the gunners there,
+  Charging an army, while
+    All the world wondered:
+  Plunged in the battery smoke,
+  Right thro' the line they broke;
+  Cossack and Russian
+  Reeled from the saber stroke
+    Shattered and sundered.
+  Then they rode back, but not
+    Not the six hundred.
+
+  Cannon to right of them,
+  Cannon to left of them,
+  Cannon behind them
+    Volleyed and thundered;
+  Stormed at with shot and shell,
+  While horse and hero fell,
+  They that had fought so well
+  Came thro' the jaws of Death,
+    Back from the mouth of Hell,
+  All that was left of them,
+    Left of six hundred.
+
+  When can their glory fade?
+  O the wild charge they made!
+    All the world wondered.
+  Honor the charge they made!
+  Honor the Light Brigade,
+    Noble six hundred!
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE ROYAL GEORGE.
+
+
+  Toll for the brave!
+  The brave that are no more!
+  All sunk beneath the wave
+  Fast by their native shore!
+
+  Eight hundred of the brave,
+  Whose courage well was tried,
+  Had made the vessel heel
+  And laid her on her side.
+
+  A land breeze shook the shrouds,
+  And she was overset;
+  Down went the Royal George
+  With all her crew complete.
+
+  Toll for the brave!
+  Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
+  His last sea fight is fought,
+  His work of glory done.
+
+  It was not in the battle;
+  No tempest gave the shock;
+  She sprang no fatal leak,
+  She ran upon no rock.
+
+  His sword was in its sheath,
+  His fingers held the pen,
+  When Kempenfelt went down
+  With twice four hundred men.
+
+  Weigh the vessel up,
+  Once dreaded by our foes!
+  And mingle with our cup
+  The tear that England owes.
+
+  Her timbers yet are sound,
+  And she may float again
+  Full charged with England's thunder,
+  And plow the distant main:
+
+  But Kempenfelt is gone,
+  His victories are o'er;
+  And he and his eight hundred
+  Shall plow the wave no more.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT.
+
+
+  Calm on the listening ear of night
+    Come heaven's melodious strains,
+  Where wild Judea stretches far
+    Her silver-mantled plains.
+
+  Celestial choirs from courts above
+    Shed sacred glories there;
+  And angels, with their sparkling lyres,
+    Make music on the air.
+
+  The answering hills of Palestine
+    Send back the glad reply;
+  And greet, from all their holy heights,
+    The Dayspring from on high.
+
+  O'er the blue depths of Galilee
+    There comes a holier calm,
+  And Sharon waves in solemn praise
+    Her silent groves of palm.
+
+  "Glory to God!" the sounding skies
+    Loud with their anthems ring,
+  "Peace to the earth, good-will to men,
+    From heaven's eternal King!"
+
+  Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!
+    The Savior now is born!
+  And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains
+    Breaks the first Christmas morn.
+
+                                                      EDMUND H. SEARS.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN WILT THOU SAVE THE PEOPLE?
+
+
+  When wilt Thou save the people?
+    O God of mercy, when?
+  Not kings and lords, but nations!
+    Not thrones and crowns, but men!
+  Flowers of Thy heart, O God, are they;
+  Let them not pass, like weeds, away,
+  Their heritage, a sunless day.
+        God, save the people!
+
+  Shall crime bring crime forever,
+    Strength aiding still the strong?
+  Is it Thy will, O Father,
+    That man shall toil for wrong?
+  No, say Thy mountains; No, Thy skies;
+  Man's clouded sun shall brightly rise,
+  And songs ascend, instead of sighs.
+        God, save the people!
+
+  When wilt Thou save the people?
+    O God of mercy, when?
+  The people, Lord, the people,
+    Not thrones and crowns, but men!
+  God save the people; Thine they are,
+  Thy children, as Thine angels fair.
+  From vice, oppression, and despair,
+        God, save the people!
+
+                                                     EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART II._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DANIEL C. FRENCH.
+
+THE MINUTE MAN.]
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+UNION AND LIBERTY.
+
+
+  Flag of the heroes who left us their glory,
+    Borne through their battlefields' thunder and flame,
+  Blazoned in song and illumined in story,
+    Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation,
+    Pride of her children, and honored afar,
+  Let the wide beams of thy full constellation
+    Scatter each cloud that would darken a star!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Empire unsceptered! what foe shall assail thee,
+    Bearing the standard of Liberty's van?
+  Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee,
+    Striving with men for the birthright of man!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted,
+    Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw,
+  Then with the arms of thy millions united,
+    Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+  Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,
+    Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun!
+  Thou hast united us, who shall divide us?
+    Keep us, O keep us, the MANY IN ONE!
+        Up with our banner bright,
+        Sprinkled with starry light,
+      Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
+        While through the sounding sky
+        Loud rings the Nation's cry,--
+      UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!
+
+                                                OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
+
+
+  Our band is few, but true and tried,
+    Our leader frank and bold;
+  The British soldier trembles
+    When Marion's name is told.
+  Our fortress is the good greenwood,
+    Our tent the cypress tree;
+  We know the forest round us,
+    As seamen know the sea.
+  We know its walls of thorny vines,
+    Its glades of reedy grass,
+  Its safe and silent islands
+    Within the dark morass.
+
+  Woe to the English soldiery
+    That little dread us near,
+  On them shall light at midnight
+    A strange and sudden fear:
+  When, waking to their tents on fire,
+    They grasp their arms in vain,
+  And they who stand to face us
+    Are beat to earth again;
+  And they who fly in terror deem
+    A mighty host behind,
+  And hear the tramp of thousands
+    Upon the hollow wind.
+
+  Then sweet the hour that brings release
+    From danger and from toil:
+  We talk the battle over,
+    And share the battle's spoil.
+  The woodland rings with laugh and shout,
+    As if a hunt were up,
+  And woodland flowers are gathered
+    To crown the soldier's cup.
+  With merry songs we mock the wind
+    That in the pine-top grieves,
+  And slumber long and sweetly
+    On beds of oaken leaves.
+
+  Well knows the fair and friendly moon
+    The band that Marion leads--
+  The glitter of their rifles,
+    The scampering of their steeds.
+  'Tis life to guide the fiery barb
+    Across the moonlight plain;
+  'Tis life to feel the night wind
+    That lifts his tossing mane.
+  A moment in the British camp--
+    A moment--and away
+  Back to the pathless forest,
+    Before the peep of day.
+
+  Grave men there are by broad Santee,
+    Grave men with hoary hairs,
+  Their hearts are all with Marion,
+    For Marion are their prayers.
+  And lovely ladies greet our band
+    With kindliest welcoming,
+  With smiles like those of summer,
+    And tears like those of spring.
+  For them we wear these trusty arms,
+    And lay them down no more
+  Till we have driven the Briton,
+    Forever, from our shore.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+STARS.
+
+
+  They glide upon their endless way,
+    Forever calm, forever bright;
+  No blind hurry, no delay,
+    Mark the Daughters of the Night;
+  They follow in the track of Day,
+    In divine delight.
+
+  Shine on, sweet-orbed Souls for aye,
+    Forever calm, forever bright;
+  We ask not whither lies your way,
+    Nor whence ye came, nor what your light.
+  Be--still a dream throughout the day,
+    A blessing through the night.
+
+                                BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+  The sun descendeth in the west,
+    The evening star does shine;
+  The birds are silent in their nest,
+    And I must seek for mine.
+      The moon, like a flower,
+      In heaven's high bower,
+      With silent delight
+      Sits and smiles on the night.
+
+  Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
+    Where flocks have ta'en delight;
+  Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
+    The feet of angels bright;
+      Unseen, they pour blessing,
+      And joy without ceasing,
+      On each bud and blossom,
+      And each sleeping bosom.
+
+  They look in every thoughtless nest,
+    Where birds are covered warm,
+  They visit caves of every beast,
+    To keep them all from harm.
+      If they see any weeping
+      That should have been sleeping,
+      They pour sleep on their head,
+      And sit down by their bed.
+
+                                                        WILLIAM BLAKE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.
+
+
+  Of Nelson and the North
+  Sing the glorious day's renown,
+  When to battle fierce came forth
+  All the might of Denmark's crown,
+  And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
+  By each gun the lighted brand
+  In a bold determined hand,
+  And the Prince of all the land
+  Led them on.--
+
+  Like leviathans afloat,
+  Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
+  While the sign of battle flew
+  On the lofty British line:
+  It was ten of April morn by the chime:
+  As they drifted on their path,
+  There was silence deep as death;
+  And the boldest held his breath,
+  For a time.--
+
+  But the might of England flushed
+  To anticipate the scene;
+  And her van the fleeter rushed
+  O'er the deadly space between.
+  "Hearts of oak!" our captains cried; when each gun
+  From its adamantine lips
+  Spread a death shade round the ships,
+  Like the hurricane eclipse
+  Of the sun.
+
+  Again! again! again!
+  And the havoc did not slack,
+  Till a feeble cheer the Dane,
+  To our cheering sent us back;--
+  Their shots along the deep slowly boom:--
+  Then cease--and all is wail,
+  As they strike the shattered sail;
+  Or, in conflagration pale,
+  Light the gloom.--
+
+  Now joy, Old England, raise
+  For the tidings of thy might,
+  By the festal cities' blaze,
+  Whilst the wine cup shines in light;
+  And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
+  Let us think of them that sleep
+  Full many a fathom deep
+  By thy wild and stormy steep,
+  Elsinore.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.
+
+
+  How sleep the brave who sink to rest
+  By all their Country's wishes blest!
+  When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
+  Returns to deck their hallowed mold,
+  She there shall dress a sweeter sod
+  Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
+
+  By fairy hands their knell is rung,
+  By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
+  There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
+  To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
+  And Freedom shall awhile repair
+  To dwell a weeping hermit there!
+
+                                                      WILLIAM COLLINS.
+
+
+
+
+LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG.
+
+
+  The spearmen heard the bugle sound,
+    And cheer'ly smiled the morn;
+  And many a dog, and many a hound,
+    Attend Llewellyn's horn.
+
+  And still he blew a louder blast,
+    And gave a louder cheer;
+  "Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
+    Llewellyn's horn to hear?
+
+  "Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam,
+    The flower of all his race?
+  So true, so brave--a lamb at home,
+    A lion in the chase."
+
+  That day Llewellyn little loved
+    The chase of hart or hare,
+  And scant and small the booty proved,
+    For Gelert was not there.
+
+  Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
+    When, near the portal seat,
+  His truant Gelert he espied,
+    Bounding his lord to greet.
+
+  But when he gained the castle door,
+    Aghast the chieftain stood;
+  The hound was smeared with gouts of gore,
+    His lips and fangs ran blood!
+
+  Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise;
+    Unused such looks to meet,
+  His fav'rite checked his joyful guise,
+    And crouched, and licked his feet.
+
+  Onward in haste Llewellyn passed
+    (And on went Gelert too),
+  And still, where'er his eyes were cast,
+    Fresh blood gouts shocked his view.
+
+  O'erturned his infant's bed he found,
+    The bloodstained cover rent;
+  And all around the walls and ground
+    With recent blood besprent.
+
+  He called his child--no voice replied;
+    He searched with terror wild;
+  Blood! blood! he found on every side,
+    But nowhere found his child!
+
+  "Hell-hound! by thee my child's devoured!"
+    The frantic father cried;
+  And to the hilt his vengeful sword
+    He plunged in Gelert's side.
+
+  His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
+    No pity could impart;
+  But still his Gelert's dying yell
+    Passed heavy o'er his heart.
+
+  Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
+    Some slumberer wakened nigh;
+  What words the parent's joy can tell,
+    To hear his infant cry!
+
+  Concealed beneath a mangled heap,
+    His hurried search had missed,
+  All glowing from his rosy sleep,
+    His cherub boy he kissed!
+
+  Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread,
+    But the same couch beneath
+  Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,--
+    Tremendous still in death!
+
+  Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!
+    For now the truth was clear;
+  The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
+    To save Llewellyn's heir.
+
+  Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe;
+    "Best of thy kind, adieu!
+  The frantic deed which laid thee low
+    This heart shall ever rue!"
+
+  And now a gallant tomb they raised,
+    With costly sculpture decked;
+  And marbles storied with his praise
+    Poor Gelert's bones protect.
+
+  Here never could the spearman pass,
+    Or forester, unmoved,
+  Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass
+    Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
+
+  And here he hung his horn and spear,
+    And oft, as evening fell,
+  In fancy's piercing sounds would hear,
+    Poor Gelert's dying yell.
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+FIDELITY.
+
+
+  A barking sound the shepherd hears,
+  A cry as of a dog or fox;
+  He halts--and searches with his eyes
+  Among the scattered rocks:
+  And now at distance can discern
+  A stirring in a brake of fern;
+  And instantly a dog is seen,
+  Glancing through that covert green.
+
+  The dog is not of mountain breed;
+  Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
+  With something, as the shepherd thinks,
+  Unusual in its cry:
+  Nor is there anyone in sight
+  All round, in hollow or on height;
+  Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
+  What is the creature doing here?
+
+  It was a cove, a huge recess,
+  That keeps, till June, December's snow;
+  A lofty precipice in front,
+  A silent tarn below!
+  Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
+  Remote from public road or dwelling,
+  Pathway, or cultivated land;
+  From trace of human foot or hand.
+
+  There sometimes doth a leaping fish
+  Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
+  The crags repeat the raven's croak,
+  In symphony austere;
+  Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
+  And mists that spread the flying shroud;
+  And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
+  That, if it could, would hurry past;
+  But that enormous barrier holds it fast.
+
+  Not free from boding thoughts, a while
+  The shepherd stood; then makes his way
+  O'er rocks and stones, following the dog
+  As quickly as he may;
+  Nor far had gone before he found
+  A human skeleton on the ground;
+  The appalled discoverer with a sigh
+  Looks round, to learn the history.
+
+  From those abrupt and perilous rocks
+  The man had fallen, that place of fear!
+  At length upon the shepherd's mind
+  It breaks, and all is clear:
+  He instantly recalled the name,
+  And who he was, and whence he came;
+  Remembered, too, the very day
+  On which the traveler passed this way.
+
+  But hear a wonder, for whose sake
+  This lamentable tale I tell!
+  A lasting monument of words
+  This wonder merits well.
+  The dog, which still was hovering nigh,
+  Repeating the same timid cry,
+  This dog, had been through three months' space
+  A dweller in that savage place.
+
+  Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
+  When this ill-fated traveler died,
+  The dog had watched about the spot,
+  Or by his master's side:
+  How nourished here through such long time
+  He knows, who gave that love sublime;
+  And gave that strength of feeling, great
+  Above all human estimate!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
+
+
+  The poetry of earth is never dead:
+    When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
+    And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
+  From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
+  That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
+    In summer luxury,--he has never done
+    With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
+  He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
+  The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
+    On a lone winter evening, when the frost
+  Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
+  The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
+    And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
+  The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
+
+
+  Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,
+  Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
+  Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
+  When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass;
+  And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
+  With those who think the candles come too soon,
+  Loving the fire and with your tricksome tune
+  Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
+  Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,
+  One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
+  Both have your sunshine; both, though small are strong
+  At your dear hearts; and both were sent on earth
+  To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,--
+  Indoors and out, summer and winter, mirth!
+
+                                                           LEIGH HUNT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+EPITAPH ON A HARE.
+
+
+  Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
+    Nor swifter greyhound follow,
+  Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
+    Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo!
+
+  Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
+    Who, nursed with tender care,
+  And to domestic bounds confined,
+    Was still a wild Jack hare.
+
+  Though duly from my hand he took
+    His pittance every night,
+  He did it with a jealous look,
+    And, when he could, would bite.
+
+  His diet was of wheaten bread,
+    And milk, and oats, and straw;
+  Thistles, or lettuces instead,
+    With sand to scour his maw.
+
+  On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
+    On pippin's russet peel,
+  And when his juicy salads failed,
+    Sliced carrot pleased him well.
+
+  A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
+    Whereon he loved to bound,
+  To skip and gambol like a fawn,
+    And swing himself around.
+
+  His frisking was at evening hours,
+    For then he lost his fear,
+  But most before approaching showers,
+    Or when a storm drew near.
+
+  Eight years and five round-rolling moons
+    He thus saw steal away,
+  Dozing out all his idle noons,
+    And every night at play.
+
+  I kept him for his humor's sake,
+    For he would oft beguile
+  My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
+    And force me to a smile.
+
+  But now, beneath this walnut shade,
+    He finds his long last home,
+  And waits, in snug concealment laid,
+    Till gentler Puss shall come.
+
+  He, still more aged, feels the shocks
+    From which no care can save,
+  And, partner once of Tiney's box,
+    Must soon partake his grave.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.
+
+
+    Upon a time a neighing steed,
+  Who grazed among a numerous breed,
+  With mutiny had fired the train,
+  And spread dissension through the plain.
+  On matters that concerned the state,
+  The council met in grand debate.
+  A colt whose eyeballs flamed with ire,
+  Elate with strength and youthful fire,
+  In haste stept forth before the rest,
+  And thus the listening throng addressed:
+    "Goodness, how abject is our race,
+  Condemned to slavery and disgrace!
+  Shall we our servitude retain,
+  Because our sires have borne the chain?
+  Consider, friends! your strength and might;
+  'Tis conquest to assert your right.
+  How cumbrous is the gilded coach!
+  The pride of man is our reproach.
+  Were we designed for daily toil,
+  To drag the plowshare through the soil,
+  To sweat in harness through the road,
+  To groan beneath the carrier's load?
+  How feeble are the two-legg'd kind!
+  What force is in our nerves combined!
+  Shall then our nobler jaws submit
+  To foam and champ the galling bit?
+  Shall haughty man my back bestride?
+  Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?
+  Forbid it, heavens! reject the rein;
+  Your shame, your infamy, disdain.
+  Let him the lion first control,
+  And still the tiger's famished growl.
+  Let us, like them, our freedom claim,
+  And make him tremble at our name."
+    A general nod approved the cause,
+  And all the circle neighed applause.
+  When, lo! with grave and solemn pace,
+  A steed advanced before the race,
+  With age and long experience wise;
+  Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,
+  And, to the murmurs of the train,
+  Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain.
+    "When I had health and strength like you
+  The toils of servitude I knew;
+  Now grateful man rewards my pains,
+  And gives me all these wide domains.
+  At will I crop the year's increase;
+  My latter life is rest and peace.
+  I grant, to man we lend our pains,
+  And aid him to correct the plains;
+  But doth he not divide the care,
+  Through all the labors of the year?
+  How many thousand structures rise,
+  To fence us from inclement skies!
+  For us he bears the sultry day,
+  And stores up all our winter's hay.
+  He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain;
+  We share the toil and share the grain.
+  Since every creature was decreed
+  To aid each other's mutual need,
+  Appease your discontented mind,
+  And act the part by heaven assigned."
+    The tumult ceased, the colt submitted,
+  And, like his ancestors, was bitted.
+
+                                                             JOHN GAY.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+RUTH.
+
+
+  She stood breast high amid the corn,
+  Clasped by the golden light of morn,
+  Like the sweetheart of the sun,
+  Who many a glowing kiss had won.
+
+  On her cheek an autumn flush,
+  Deeply ripened;--such a blush
+  In the midst of brown was born,
+  Like red poppies grown with corn.
+
+  Round her eyes her tresses fell,
+  Which were blackest none could tell,
+  But long lashes veiled a light,
+  That had else been all too bright.
+
+  And her hat, with shady brim,
+  Made her tressy forehead dim;--
+  Thus she stood amid the stocks,
+  Praising God with sweetest looks:--
+
+  Sure, I said, heav'n did not mean,
+  Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,
+  Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
+  Share my harvest and my home.
+
+                                                          THOMAS HOOD.
+
+
+
+
+THE ELIXIR.
+
+
+    Teach me, my God and King,
+    In all things Thee to see,
+  And what I do in anything,
+    To do it as for Thee.
+
+    All may of Thee partake:
+    Nothing can be so mean
+  Which with this tincture, for Thy sake,
+    Will not grow bright and clean.
+
+    A servant with this clause
+    Makes drudgery divine;
+  Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
+    Makes that and the action fine.
+
+    This is the famous stone
+    That turneth all to gold;
+  For that which God doth touch and own
+    Cannot for less be told.
+
+                                                       GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE ANGEL.
+
+
+  Morning, evening, noon, and night,
+  "Praise God!" sang Theocrite.
+
+  Then to his poor trade he turned,
+  Whereby the daily meal was earned.
+
+  Hard he labored, long and well;
+  O'er his work the boy's curls fell.
+
+  But ever, at each period,
+  He stopped and sang, "Praise God!"
+
+  Then back again his curls he threw,
+  And cheerful turned to work anew.
+
+  Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;
+  I doubt not thou art heard, my son:
+
+  "As well as if thy voice to-day
+  Were praising God, the Pope's great way.
+
+  "This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome
+  Praises God from Peter's dome."
+
+  Said Theocrite, "Would God that I
+  Might praise Him that great way, and die!"
+
+  Night passed, day shone,
+  And Theocrite was gone.
+
+  With God a day endures alway,
+  A thousand years are but a day.
+
+  God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night
+  Now brings the voice of my delight."
+
+  Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,
+  Spread his wings and sank to earth;
+
+  Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,
+  Lived there, and played the craftsman well;
+
+  And morning, evening, noon, and night,
+  Praised God in place of Theocrite.
+
+  And from a boy, to youth he grew:
+  The man put off the stripling's hue:
+
+  The man matured and fell away
+  Into the season of decay:
+
+  And ever o'er the trade he bent,
+  And ever lived on earth content.
+
+  (He lived God's will; to him, all one
+  If on the earth or in the sun.)
+
+  God said, "A praise is in mine ear;
+  There is no doubt in it, no fear:
+
+  "So sing old worlds, and so
+  New worlds that from my footstool go.
+
+  "Clearer loves sound other ways:
+  I miss my little human praise."
+
+  Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell
+  The flesh disguise, remained the cell.
+
+  'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,
+  And paused above Saint Peter's dome.
+
+  In the tiring-room close by
+  The great outer gallery,
+
+  With his holy vestments dight,
+  Stood the new Pope Theocrite:
+
+  And all his past career
+  Came back upon him clear,
+
+  Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,
+  Till on his life the sickness weighed;
+
+  And in his cell, when death drew near,
+  An angel in a dream brought cheer:
+
+  And, rising from the sickness drear,
+  He grew a priest, and now stood here.
+
+  To the East with praise he turned,
+  And on his sight the angel burned.
+
+  "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,
+  And set thee here; I did not well.
+
+  "Vainly I left my angel sphere,
+  Vain was thy dream of many a year.
+
+  "Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped--
+  Creation's chorus stopped!
+
+  "Go back and praise again
+  The early way, while I remain.
+
+  "With that weak voice of our disdain,
+  Take up creation's pausing strain.
+
+  "Back to the cell and poor employ:
+  Resume the craftsman and the boy!"
+
+  Theocrite grew old at home;
+  A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.
+
+  One vanished as the other died:
+  They sought God side by side.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
+
+
+  They grew in beauty, side by side,
+    They filled one home with glee;
+  Their graves are severed far and wide,
+    By mount, and stream, and sea.
+
+  The same fond mother bent at night
+    O'er each fair, sleeping brow;
+  She had each folded flower in sight:
+    Where are those sleepers now?
+
+  One, midst the forest of the West,
+    By a dark stream is laid;
+  The Indian knows his place of rest,
+    Far in the cedar shade.
+
+  The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one;
+    He lies where pearls lie deep;
+  He was the loved of all, yet none
+    O'er his low bed may weep.
+
+  One sleeps where southern vines are dressed
+    Above the noble slain;
+  He wrapped the colors round his breast
+    On a blood-red field of Spain.
+
+  And one--o'er her the myrtle showers
+    Its leaves by soft winds fanned;
+  She faded midst Italian flowers--
+    The last of that fair band.
+
+  And parted thus, they rest who played
+    Beneath the same green tree;
+  Whose voices mingled as they prayed
+    Around one parent knee.
+
+  They that with smiles lit up the hall,
+    And cheered with song the hearth;
+  Alas for love! if thou wert all,
+    And nought beyond, O earth!
+
+                                              FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.]
+
+THE EVENING WIND.
+
+
+  Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
+    That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
+  Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow:
+    Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
+  Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
+    Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
+  And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
+  To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!
+
+  Nor I alone--a thousand bosoms round
+    Inhale thee in the fullness of delight;
+  And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
+    Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
+  And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
+    Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.
+  Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,
+  God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!
+
+  Go, rock the little wood bird in his nest,
+    Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
+  The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
+    Summoning from the innumerable boughs
+  The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast:
+    Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
+  The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
+  And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass.
+
+  The faint old man shall lean his silver head
+    To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
+  And dry the moistened curls that overspread
+    His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
+  And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
+    Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
+  And softly part his curtains to allow
+  Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.
+
+  Go--but the circle of eternal change,
+    Which is the life of nature, shall restore,
+  With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
+    Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;
+  Sweet odors in the sea air, sweet and strange,
+    Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore;
+  And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem
+  He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL
+
+
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah has triumphed,--His people are free!
+  Sing,--for the pride of the tyrant is broken,
+    His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave,--
+  How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,
+    And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah has triumphed,--His people are free!
+
+  Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord!
+  His word was our arrow, His breath was our sword.
+  Who shall return to tell Egypt the story
+    Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride?
+  For the Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory,
+    And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.
+  Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
+  Jehovah hath triumphed,--His people are free!
+
+                                                         THOMAS MOORE.
+
+
+
+
+CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN PEASANTS.
+
+
+  Up! up! ye dames, ye lasses gay!
+    To the meadows trip away,
+    'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
+  And scare the small birds from the corn.
+    Not a soul at home may stay:
+      For the shepherds must go
+      With lance and bow
+  To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
+
+  Leave the hearth and leave the house
+    To the cricket and the mouse:
+    Find grannam out a sunny seat,
+  With babe and lambkin at her feet.
+    Not a soul at home may stay:
+      For the shepherds must go
+      With lance and bow
+  To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
+
+                                              SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.
+
+
+  An ancient story I'll tell you anon
+  Of a notable prince, that was called King John;
+  And he ruled England with main and with might,
+  For he did great wrong and maintained little right.
+
+  And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
+  Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury;
+  How for his housekeeping and high renown,
+  They rode post for him to fair London town.
+
+  An hundred men, the king did hear say,
+  The Abbot kept in his house every day;
+  And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
+  In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.
+
+  "How now, father Abbot, I hear it of thee,
+  Thou keepest a far better house than me;
+  And for thy housekeeping and high renown,
+  I fear thou work'st treason against my crown."
+
+  "My liege," quoth the Abbot, "I would it were known
+  I never spend nothing but what is my own;
+  And I trust your Grace will do me no deere
+  For spending of my own true gotten geere."
+
+[Illustration: KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.]
+
+  "Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high,
+  And now for the same thou needest must die;
+  For except thou canst answer me questions three,
+  Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.
+
+  "And first," quoth the king, "when I'm in this stead,
+  With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
+  Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,
+  Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
+
+  "Secondly tell me, without any doubt,
+  How soon I may ride the whole world about;
+  And at the third question thou must not shrink,
+  But tell me here truly what I do think."
+
+  "O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
+  Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet;
+  But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
+  I'll do my endeavor to answer your Grace."
+
+  "Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,
+  And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
+  For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
+  Thy land and thy livings are forfeit to me."
+
+  Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word,
+  And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;
+  But never a doctor there was so wise,
+  That could with his learning an answer devise.
+
+  Then home rode the Abbot of comfort so cold,
+  And he met his shepherd a-going to fold:
+  "How now, my lord Abbot, you are welcome home;
+  What news do you bring us from good King John?"
+
+  "Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,
+  That I have but three days more to live;
+  For if I do not answer him questions three,
+  My head will be smitten from my bodie.
+
+  "The first is to tell him there in that stead,
+  With his crown of gold so fair on his head,
+  Among all his liegemen so noble of birth,
+  To within one penny of what he is worth.
+
+  "The second to tell him without any doubt,
+  How soon he may ride this whole world about;
+  And at the third question I must not shrink,
+  But tell him there truly what he does think."
+
+  "Now cheer up, sir Abbot, did you never hear yet
+  That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?
+  Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,
+  And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
+
+  "Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me,
+  I am like your lordship as ever may be;
+  And if you will but lend me your gown
+  There is none shall know us in fair London town."
+
+  "Now horses and serving men thou shalt have,
+  With sumptuous array most gallant and brave,
+  With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,
+  Fit to appear 'fore our father the Pope."
+
+  "Now welcome, sir Abbot," the king he did say,
+  "'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day:
+  For and if thou canst answer my questions three,
+  Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.
+
+  "And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,
+  With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
+  Among all my liegemen so noble of birth,
+  Tell me to one penny what I am worth."
+
+  "For thirty pence our Savior was sold
+  Among the false Jews, as I have been told:
+  And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,
+  For I think thou art one penny worser than he."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,
+  "I did not think I had been worth so little!
+  Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,
+  How soon I may ride this whole world about."
+
+  "You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
+  Until the next morning he riseth again;
+  And then your Grace need not make any doubt
+  But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,
+  "I did not think it could be gone so soon.
+  Now from the third question thou must not shrink,
+  But tell me here truly what do I think."
+
+  "Yea, that I shall do and make your Grace merry;
+  You think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury;
+  But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,
+  That am come to beg pardon for him and for me."
+
+  The King he laughed, and swore by the mass,
+  "I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"
+  "Nay, nay, my liege, be not in such speed,
+  For alack, I can neither write nor read."
+
+  "Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,
+  For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;
+  And tell the old Abbot, when thou com'st home,
+  Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."
+
+                                                         THOMAS PERCY.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.
+
+
+  Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
+  Let them live upon their praises;
+  Long as there's a sun that sets,
+  Primroses will have their glory;
+  Long as there are violets,
+  They will have a place in story:
+  There's a flower that shall be mine,
+  'Tis the little Celandine.
+
+  Eyes of some men travel far
+  For the finding of a star;
+  Up and down the heavens they go,
+  Men that keep a mighty rout!
+  I'm as great as they, I trow,
+  Since the day I found thee out,
+  Little flower!--I'll make a stir,
+  Like a sage astronomer.
+
+  Modest, yet withal an elf
+  Bold, and lavish of thyself;
+  Since we needs must first have met
+  I have seen thee, high and low,
+  Thirty years or more, and yet
+  'Twas a face I did not know;
+  Thou hast now, go where I may,
+  Fifty greetings in a day.
+
+  Ere a leaf is on a bush,
+  In the time before the thrush
+  Has a thought about her nest,
+  Thou wilt come with half a call,
+  Spreading out thy glossy breast
+  Like a careless prodigal;
+  Telling tales about the sun,
+  When we've little warmth, or none.
+
+  Poets, vain men in their mood!
+  Travel with the multitude:
+  Never heed them; I aver
+  That they are all wanton wooers;
+  But the thrifty cottager,
+  Who stirs little out of doors,
+  Joys to spy thee near her home;
+  Spring is coming, thou art come!
+
+  Comfort have thou of thy merit,
+  Kindly, unassuming spirit!
+  Careless of thy neighborhood,
+  Thou dost show thy pleasant face
+  On the moor, and in the wood,
+  In the lane;--there's not a place,
+  Howsoever mean it be,
+  But 'tis good enough for thee.
+
+  Ill befall the yellow flowers,
+  Children of the flaring hours!
+  Buttercups, that will be seen,
+  Whether we will see or no;
+  Others, too, of lofty mien;
+  They have done as worldlings do,
+  Taken praise that should be thine,
+  Little, humble Celandine!
+
+  Prophet of delight and mirth,
+  Ill requited upon earth;
+  Herald of a mighty band,
+  Of a joyous train ensuing,
+  Serving at my heart's command,
+  Tasks that are no tasks renewing,
+  I will sing, as doth behove,
+  Hymns in praise, of what I love!
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+THE BELEAGUERED CITY.
+
+
+  I have read, in some old, marvelous tale,
+    Some legend strange and vague,
+  That a midnight host of specters pale
+    Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
+
+  Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,
+    With the wan moon overhead,
+  There stood, as in an awful dream,
+    The army of the dead.
+
+  White as a sea fog, landward bound,
+    The spectral camp was seen,
+  And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
+    The river flowed between.
+
+  No other voice nor sound was there,
+    No drum, nor sentry's pace;
+  The mistlike banners clasped the air,
+    As clouds with clouds embrace.
+
+  But, when the old cathedral bell
+    Proclaimed the morning prayer,
+  The white pavilions rose and fell
+    On the alarmed air.
+
+[Illustration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.]
+
+  Down the broad valley, fast and far
+    The troubled army fled;
+  Up rose the glorious morning star,
+    The ghastly host was dead.
+
+  I have read, in the marvelous heart of man,
+    That strange and mystic scroll,
+  That an army of phantoms vast and wan
+    Beleaguer the human soul.
+
+  Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
+    In Fancy's misty light,
+  Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
+    Portentous through the night.
+
+  Upon its midnight battle ground
+    The spectral camp is seen,
+  And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
+    Flows the River of Life between.
+
+  No other voice, nor sound is there,
+    In the army of the grave;
+  No other challenge breaks the air,
+    But the rushing of Life's wave.
+
+  And, when the solemn and deep church bell
+    Entreats the soul to pray,
+  The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
+    The shadows sweep away.
+
+  Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
+    The spectral camp is fled;
+  Faith shineth as a morning star,
+    Our ghastly fears are dead.
+
+                                           HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR'S WIFE.
+
+
+  And are ye sure the news is true?
+    And are ye sure he's weel?
+  Is this a time to think o' wark?
+    Ye jades, lay by your wheel;
+  Is this the time to spin a thread,
+    When Colin's at the door?
+  Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,
+    And see him come ashore.
+  For there's nae luck about the house,
+    There's nae luck at a';
+  There's little pleasure in the house
+    When our gudeman's awa.
+
+  And gie to me my bigonet,
+    My bishop's satin gown;
+  For I maun tell the baillie's wife
+    That Colin's in the town.
+  My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
+    My stockins pearly blue;
+  It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,
+    For he's baith leal and true.
+
+  Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,
+    Put on the muckle pot;
+  Gie little Kate her button gown
+    And Jock his Sunday coat;
+  And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
+    Their hose as white as snaw;
+  It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
+    For he's been long awa.
+
+  There's twa fat hens upo' the coop
+    Benn fed this month and mair;
+  Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
+    That Colin weel may fare;
+  And spread the table neat and clean,
+    Gar ilka thing look braw,
+  For wha can tell how Colin fared
+    When he was far awa?
+
+  Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
+    His breath like caller air;
+  His very foot has music in't
+    As he comes up the stair.
+  And will I see his face again?
+    And will I hear him speak?
+  I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
+    In troth I'm like to greet!
+
+  If Colin's well, and weel content,
+    I hae nae mair to crave;
+  And gin I live to keep him sae,
+    I'm blest aboon the lave:
+  And will I see his face again?
+    And will I hear him speak?
+  I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
+    In troth I'm like to greet.
+  For there's nae luck about the house,
+    There's nae luck at a';
+  There's little pleasure in the house
+    When our gudeman's awa.
+
+                                                    WILLIAM J. MICKLE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+SOLDIER AND SAILOR.
+
+
+  I love contemplating, apart
+    From all his homicidal glory,
+  The traits that soften to our heart
+    Napoleon's story!
+
+  'Twas when his banners at Boulogne
+    Armed in our island every freeman,
+  His navy chanced to capture one
+    Poor British seaman.
+
+  They suffered him, I know not how,
+    Unprisoned on the shore to roam;
+  And aye was bent his longing brow
+    On England's home.
+
+  His eye, methinks, pursued the flight
+    Of birds to Britain halfway over
+  With envy; _they_ could reach the white
+    Dear cliffs of Dover.
+
+  A stormy midnight watch, he thought,
+    Than this sojourn would have been dearer,
+  If but the storm his vessel brought
+    To England nearer.
+
+  At last, when care had banished sleep,
+    He saw one morning--dreaming--doating,
+  An empty hogshead from the deep
+    Come shoreward floating;
+
+  He hid it in a cave, and wrought
+    The livelong day laborious; lurking
+  Until he launched a tiny boat
+    By mighty working.
+
+  Heaven help us! 'Twas a thing beyond
+    Description, wretched: such a wherry
+  Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond,
+    Or crossed a ferry.
+
+  For plowing in the salt sea field,
+    It would have made the boldest shudder;
+  Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,
+    No sail--no rudder.
+
+  From neighb'ring woods he interlaced
+    His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
+  And thus equipped he would have passed
+    The foaming billows--
+
+  But Frenchmen caught him on the beach,
+    His little Argo sorely jeering;
+  Till tidings of him chanced to reach
+    Napoleon's hearing.
+
+  With folded arms Napoleon stood,
+    Serene alike in peace and danger;
+  And, in his wonted attitude,
+    Addressed the stranger:--
+
+  "Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass
+    On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned;
+  Thy heart with some sweet British lass
+    Must be impassioned."
+
+  "I have no sweetheart," said the lad;
+    "But--absent long from one another--
+  Great was the longing that I had
+    To see my mother."
+
+  "And so thou shalt," Napoleon said,
+    "Ye've both my favor fairly won;
+  A noble mother must have bred
+    So brave a son."
+
+  He gave the tar a piece of gold,
+    And, with a flag of truce, commanded
+  He should be shipped to England Old,
+    And safely landed.
+
+  Our sailor oft could scantly shift
+    To find a dinner, plain and hearty;
+  But _never_ changed the coin and gift
+    Of Bonaparte.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
+
+
+  It was a summer's evening,
+  Old Kaspar's work was done,
+  And he before his cottage door
+  Was sitting in the sun;
+  And by him sported on the green
+  His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
+
+  She saw her brother Peterkin
+  Roll something large and round,
+  Which he beside the rivulet,
+  In playing there, had found.
+  He came to ask what he had found,
+  That was so large, and smooth, and round.
+
+  Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
+  Who stood expectant by;
+  And then the old man shook his head,
+  And, with a natural sigh,
+  "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
+  "Who fell in the great victory!
+
+  "I find them in the garden,
+  For there's many here about;
+  And often when I go to plow,
+  The plowshare turns them out;
+  For many thousand men," said he,
+  "Were slain in that great victory!"
+
+  "Now, tell us what 'twas all about,"
+  Young Peterkin he cries;
+  And little Wilhelmine looks up
+  With wonder-waiting eyes;
+  "Now tell us all about the war,
+  And what they killed each other for."
+
+  "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
+  "Who put the French to rout;
+  But what they killed each other for
+  I could not well make out.
+  But everybody said," quoth he,
+  "That 'twas a famous victory!
+
+  "My father lived at Blenheim then,
+  Yon little stream hard by;
+  They burned his dwelling to the ground,
+  And he was forced to fly;
+  So with his wife and child he fled,
+  Nor had he where to rest his head.
+
+  "With fire and sword the country round
+  Was wasted far and wide;
+  And many a childing mother then
+  And new-born baby died.
+  But things, like that, you know, must be
+  At every famous victory.
+
+  "They say it was a shocking sight
+  After the field was won;
+  For many thousand bodies here
+  Lay rotting in the sun.
+  But things like that, you know, must be
+  After a famous victory.
+
+  "Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,
+  And our good Prince Eugene."
+  "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
+  Said little Wilhelmine.
+  "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
+  "It was a famous victory!
+
+  "And everybody praised the Duke
+  Who this great fight did win."
+  "But what good came of it at last?"
+  Quoth little Peterkin.
+  "Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
+  "But 'twas a famous victory!"
+
+                                                       ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE REVENGE.
+
+
+  And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer
+          sea,
+  And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
+  But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still
+          could sting;
+  So they watched what the end would be.
+  And we had not fought them in vain,
+  But in perilous plight were we,
+  Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
+  And half of the rest of us maimed for life
+  In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
+  And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
+  And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it
+          spent;
+  And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
+  But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
+  "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
+  As may never be fought again!
+  We have won great glory, my men!
+  And a day less or more
+  At sea or ashore,
+  We die--does it matter when?
+  Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
+  Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
+
+  And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
+  "We have children, we have wives,
+  And the Lord hath spared our lives.
+  We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
+  We shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow."
+  And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
+
+  And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
+  Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
+  And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
+  But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
+  "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
+  I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
+  With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"
+  And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+_From "The Revenge."_
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWED GROUND.
+
+
+  What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
+  Its maker meant not should be trod
+  By man, the image of his God,
+      Erect and free,
+  Unscourged by Superstition's rod
+      To bow the knee?
+
+  That's hallowed ground--where, mourned and missed,
+  The lips repose our love has kissed:--
+  But where's their memory's mansion? Is't
+      Yon churchyard's bowers?
+  No! in ourselves their souls exist,
+      A part of ours.
+
+  What hallows ground where heroes sleep?
+  'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap!
+  In dews that heavens far distant weep
+      Their turf may bloom;
+  Or Genii twine beneath the deep
+      Their coral tomb:
+
+  But strew his ashes to the wind
+  Whose sword or voice has served mankind--
+  And is he dead, whose glorious mind
+      Lifts thine on high?--
+  To live in hearts we leave behind,
+      Is not to die.
+
+  Is't death to fall for Freedom's right?
+  He's dead alone that lacks her light!
+  And murder sullies in Heaven's sight
+      The sword he draws:--
+  What can alone ennoble fight?
+      A noble cause!
+
+  What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth
+  To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!--
+  Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth
+      Earth's compass round;
+  And your high priesthood shall make earth
+      _All hallowed ground_.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.
+
+
+  You know we French stormed Ratisbon:
+    A mile or so away
+  On a little mound, Napoleon
+    Stood on our storming-day;
+  With neck out thrust, you fancy how,
+    Legs wide, arms locked behind,
+  As if to balance the prone brow
+    Oppressive with its mind.
+
+  Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans
+    That soar, to earth may fall,
+  Let once my army leader Lannes
+    Waver at yonder wall,--"
+  Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew
+    A rider, bound on bound
+  Full galloping; nor bridle drew
+    Until he reached the mound.
+
+  Then off there flung in smiling joy,
+    And held himself erect
+  By just his horse's mane, a boy:
+    You hardly could suspect--
+  (So tight he kept his lips compressed,
+    Scarce any blood came through),
+  You looked twice ere you saw his breast
+    Was all but shot in two.
+
+  "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace
+    We've got you Ratisbon!
+  The Marshal's in the market place,
+    And you'll be there anon
+  To see your flag-bird flap his vans
+    Where I, to heart's desire,
+  Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
+    Soared up again like fire.
+
+  The chief's eye flashed; but presently
+    Softened itself, as sheathes
+  A film the mother eagle's eye
+    When her bruised eaglet breathes.
+  "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride
+    Touched to the quick, he said:
+  "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
+    Smiling, the boy fell dead.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+THY VOICE IS HEARD THRO' ROLLING DRUMS.
+
+
+  Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
+    That beat to battle where he stands;
+  Thy face across his fancy comes,
+    And gives the battle to his hands:
+  A moment, while the trumpets blow,
+    He sees his brood about thy knee;
+  The next, like fire he meets the foe,
+    And strikes him dead for thine and thee.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+QUIET, LORD, MY FROWARD HEART.
+
+
+  Quiet, Lord, my froward heart:
+  Make me teachable and mild,
+  Upright, simple, free from art,--
+  Make me as a weaned child:
+  From distrust and envy free,
+  Pleased with all that pleaseth Thee.
+
+  What Thou shalt to-day provide,
+  Let me as a child receive;
+  What to-morrow may betide,
+  Calmly to Thy wisdom leave;
+  'Tis enough that Thou wilt care:
+  Why should I the burden bear?
+
+  As a little child relies
+  On a care beyond his own,
+  Knows he's neither strong nor wise,
+  Fears to stir a step alone;
+  Let me thus with Thee abide,
+  As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
+
+                                                          JOHN NEWTON.
+
+
+
+
+MORNING.
+
+
+  Oh! timely happy, timely wise,
+  Hearts that with rising morn arise!
+  Eyes that the beam celestial view,
+  Which evermore makes all things new!
+
+  New every morning is the love
+  Our wakening and uprising prove;
+  Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
+  Restored to life, and power, and thought.
+
+  New mercies, each returning day,
+  Hover around us while we pray;
+  New perils past, new sins forgiven,
+  New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEBLE.
+
+
+
+
+EVENING.
+
+
+  Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
+  Fold your flocks up, for the air
+  'Gins to thicken, and the sun
+  Already his great course has run.
+  See the dewdrops how they kiss
+  Every little flower that is,
+  Hanging on their velvet heads,
+  Like a rope of crystal beads.
+  See the heavy clouds low falling,
+  And bright Hesperus down calling
+  The dead night from underground,
+  At whose rising, mists unsound,
+  Damps and vapors fly apace,
+  Hovering o'er the wanton face
+  Of these pastures, where they come
+  Striking dead both bud and bloom.
+  Therefore from such danger lock
+  Every one of his loved flock;
+  And let your dogs lie loose without,
+  Lest the wolf come, as a scout
+  From the mountain, and ere day
+  Bear a kid or lamb away;
+  Or the crafty thievish fox
+  Break upon your simple flocks.
+  To secure yourselves from these,
+  Be not too secure in ease.
+  So shall you good shepherds prove,
+  And deserve your master's love.
+  Now, good night! may sweetest slumbers
+  And soft silence fall in numbers
+  On your eyelids; so, farewell;
+  Thus I end my evening knell.
+
+                                                        JOHN FLETCHER.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+  Orpheus with his lute made trees
+  And the mountain tops that freeze
+    Bow themselves when he did sing:
+  To his music, plants and flowers
+  Ever sprung; as sun and showers
+    There had made a lasting spring.
+
+  Everything that heard him play,
+  Even the billows of the sea,
+    Hung their heads, and then lay by.
+  In sweet music is such art,
+  Killing care and grief of heart
+    Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A FAREWELL.
+
+
+  Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
+    Thy tribute wave deliver:
+  No more by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
+    A rivulet, then a river:
+  Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  But here will sigh thine alder tree,
+    And here thine aspen shiver;
+  And here by thee will hum the bee,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+  A thousand suns will stream on thee.
+    A thousand moons will quiver;
+  But not by thee my steps shall be,
+    For ever and for ever.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+TO A MOUSE.
+
+ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOW.
+
+
+  Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
+  O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
+  Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
+                    Wi' bickering brattle!
+  I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
+                    Wi' murd'ring pattle!
+
+  I'm truly sorry man's dominion
+  Has broken nature's social union,
+  An' justifies that ill opinion,
+                    Which makes thee startle
+  At me, thy poor earthborn companion,
+                    An' fellow mortal!
+
+  I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
+  What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
+  A daimen icker in a thrave
+                    'S a sma' request:
+  I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
+                    And never miss't!
+
+  Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;
+  Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
+  An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
+                    O' foggage green!
+  An' bleak December's winds ensuin',
+                    Baith snell and keen!
+
+  Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
+  An' weary winter comin' fast,
+  An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
+                    Thou thought to dwell,
+  Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
+                    Out thro' thy cell.
+
+  That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
+  Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
+  Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
+                    But house or hald,
+  To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
+                    An' cranreuch cauld!
+
+  But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
+  In proving foresight may be vain:
+  The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
+                    Gang aft a-gley,
+  An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
+                    For promis'd joy.
+
+  Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
+  The present only toucheth thee:
+  But, och! I backward cast my e'e,
+                    On prospects drear!
+  An' forward, tho' I canna see,
+                    I guess an' fear.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A SELECTION FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
+
+
+    There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
+    There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
+    There is society where none intrudes,
+    By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
+    I love not man the less, but Nature more,
+    From these our interviews, in which I steal
+    From all I may be, or have been before,
+    To mingle with the Universe, and feel
+  What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
+
+    Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
+    Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;--
+    Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
+    Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain
+    The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
+    A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
+    When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
+    He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
+  Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
+
+    The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
+    Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
+    And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
+    The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
+    Their clay creator the vain title take
+    Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;
+    These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
+    They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
+  Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
+
+    Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee--
+    Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
+    Thy waters washed them power while they were free,
+    And many a tyrant since: their shores obey
+    The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
+    Has dried up realms to deserts:--not so thou,
+    Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play--
+    Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow--
+  Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
+
+    Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
+    Glasses itself in tempests; in all time
+    Calm or convulsed--in breeze, or gale, or storm,
+    Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
+    Dark-heaving;--boundless, endless, and sublime--
+    The image of Eternity--the throne
+    Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
+    The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
+  Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
+
+    And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
+    Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
+    Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
+    I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me
+    Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
+    Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear,
+    For I was as it were a child of thee,
+    And trusted to thy billows far and near,
+  And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+
+
+
+BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING.
+
+
+  Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!
+    Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!
+  Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
+    Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!
+
+  Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining,
+    Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;
+  Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
+    Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!
+
+  Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
+    Odors of Edom and offerings divine?
+  Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
+    Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?
+
+  Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
+    Vainly with gifts would His favor secure:
+  Richer by far is the heart's adoration;
+    Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
+
+  Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!
+    Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!
+  Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
+    Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!
+
+                                                       REGINALD HEBER.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF SONG: BOOK II.
+
+_PART III._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CONCORD BRIDGE.]
+
+
+
+
+PART THREE.
+
+
+
+
+CONCORD HYMN.
+
+SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836.
+
+
+  By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
+    Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
+  Here once the embattled farmers stood,
+    And fired the shot heard round the world.
+
+  The foe long since in silence slept;
+    Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
+  And Time the ruined bridge has swept
+    Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
+
+  On this green bank, by this soft stream,
+     We set to-day a votive stone;
+  That memory may their deed redeem,
+    When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
+
+  Spirit, that made those heroes dare
+    To die, and leave their children free,
+  Bid Time and Nature gently spare
+    The shaft we raise to them and thee.
+
+                                                  RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
+
+
+
+
+MONTEREY.
+
+
+  We were not many--we who stood
+    Before the iron sleet that day--
+  Yet many a gallant spirit would
+  Give half his years if he but could
+    Have been with us at Monterey.
+
+  Now here, now there, the shot, it hailed
+    In deadly drifts of fiery spray,
+  Yet not a single soldier quailed
+  When wounded comrades round them wailed
+    Their dying shout at Monterey.
+
+  And on--still on our column kept
+    Through walls of flame its withering way;
+  Where fell the dead, the living stept,
+  Still charging on the guns that swept
+    The slippery streets of Monterey.
+
+  The foe himself recoiled aghast,
+    When, striking where he strongest lay,
+  We swooped his flanking batteries past
+  And braving full their murderous blast
+    Stormed home the towers of Monterey.
+
+  Our banners on those turrets wave,
+    And there our evening bugles play;
+  Where orange boughs above their grave
+  Keep green the memory of the brave
+    Who fought and fell at Monterey.
+
+  We are not many--we who pressed
+    Beside the brave who fell that day;
+  But who of us has not confessed
+  He'd rather share their warrior rest,
+    Than not have been at Monterey?
+
+                                                CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN.
+
+
+
+
+YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
+
+
+  Ye mariners of England
+  That guard our native seas!
+  Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
+  The battle and the breeze!
+  Your glorious standard launch again
+  To match another foe:
+  And sweep through the deep,
+  While the stormy winds do blow;
+  While the battle rages loud and long
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  The spirits of your fathers
+  Shall start from every wave--
+  For the deck it was their field of fame,
+  And Ocean was their grave:
+  Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
+  Your manly hearts shall glow,
+  As ye sweep through the deep,
+  While the stormy winds do blow;
+  While the battle rages loud and long
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  Britannia needs no bulwarks
+  No towers along the steep;
+  Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
+  Her home is on the deep.
+  With thunders from her native oak
+  She quells the floods below--
+  As they roar on the shore,
+  When the stormy winds do blow;
+  When the battle rages loud and long,
+  And the stormy winds do blow.
+
+  The meteor flag of England
+  Shall yet terrific burn;
+  Till danger's troubled night depart
+  And the star of peace return.
+  Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
+  Our song and feast shall flow
+  To the fame of your name,
+  When the storm has ceased to blow;
+  When the fiery fight is heard no more,
+  And the storm has ceased to blow.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ADMIRAL HORATIO NELSON.]
+
+THE DEATH OF NELSON.
+
+
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's bay
+  We saw the Frenchmen lay;
+    Each heart was bounding then.
+  We scorned the foreign yoke,
+  Our ships were British oak,
+    And hearts of oak our men.
+  Our Nelson marked them on the wave,
+  Three cheers our gallant seamen gave,
+    Nor thought of home and beauty.
+  Along the line this signal ran,--
+  "England expects that every man
+    This day will do his duty."
+
+  And now the cannons roar
+  Along the affrighted shore;
+    Brave Nelson led the way:
+  His ship the Victory named;
+  Long be that victory famed!
+    For victory crowned the day.
+  But dearly was that conquest bought,
+  Too well the gallant hero fought
+    For England, home, and beauty.
+  He cried, as 'midst the fire he ran,--
+  "England shall find that every man
+    This day will do his duty!"
+
+  At last the fatal wound
+  Which shed dismay around,
+    The hero's breast received.
+  "Heaven fights on our side;
+  The day's our own!" he cried;
+    "Now long enough I've lived.
+  In honor's cause my life was passed,
+  In honor's cause I fall at last,
+    For England, home, and beauty!"
+  Thus ending life as he began;
+  England confessed that every man
+    That day had done his duty.
+
+                                                               ARNOLD.
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES KINGSLEY.]
+
+ODE TO THE NORTHEAST WIND.
+
+
+  Welcome, wild Northeaster!
+    Shame it is to see
+  Odes to every zephyr;
+    Ne'er a verse to thee.
+  Welcome, black Northeaster!
+    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 dike;
+  Hunger into madness
+    Every plunging pike.
+  Fill the lake with wild fowl;
+    Fill the marsh with snipe;
+  While on dreary moorlands
+    Lonely curlew pipe.
+  Through the black fir forest
+    Thunder harsh and dry,
+  Shattering down the snowflakes
+    Off the curdled sky.
+  Hark! the brave Northeaster!
+    Breast high lies the scent,
+  On by bolt and headland,
+    Over heath and bent.
+  Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+    Through the sleet and snow,
+  Who can override you?
+    Let the horses go!
+  Chime, ye dappled darlings,
+    Down the roaring blast;
+  You shall see a fox die
+    Ere an hour be past.
+  Go! and rest to-morrow,
+    Hunting in your dreams,
+  While our skates are ringing
+    O'er the frozen streams.
+  Let the luscious South wind
+    Breathe in lovers' sighs,
+  While the lazy gallants
+    Bask in ladies' eyes.
+  What does he but soften
+    Heart alike and pen?
+  'Tis the hard gray weather
+    Breeds hard English men.
+  What's the soft Southwester?
+    'Tis the ladies' breeze,
+  Bringing home their true loves
+    Out of all the seas;
+  But the black Northeaster,
+    Through the snowstorm hurled,
+  Drives our English hearts of oak
+    Seaward round the world!
+  Come! as came our fathers,
+    Heralded by thee,
+  Conquering from the eastward,
+    Lords by land and sea.
+  Come! and strong within us
+    Stir the Vikings' blood;
+  Bracing brain and sinew;
+    Blow, thou wind of God!
+
+                                                     CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+
+
+
+ENGLAND.
+
+
+  This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
+  This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
+  This other Eden, demi-paradise,
+  This fortress built by Nature for herself
+  Against infection and the hand of war,
+  This happy breed of men, this little world,
+  This precious stone set in the silver sea,
+  Which serves it in the office of a wall
+  Or as a moat defensive to a house,
+  Against the envy of less happier lands,
+  This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
+
+                                                  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+_From "Richard II."_
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE GREEKS.
+
+
+  Again to the battle, Achaians!
+  Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
+  Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree--
+  It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
+  For the cross of our faith is replanted,
+  The pale dying crescent is daunted,
+  And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves
+  May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves.
+  Their spirits are hovering o'er us,
+  And the sword shall to glory restore us.
+
+  Ah! what though no succor advances,
+  Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances
+  Are stretched in our aid--be the combat our own!
+  And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone;
+  For we've sworn by our country's assaulters,
+  By the virgins they've dragged from our altars,
+  By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,
+  By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,
+  That, living, we shall be victorious,
+  Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious.
+
+  A breath of submission we breathe not;
+  The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not!
+  Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,
+  And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.
+  Earth may hide--waves engulf--fire consume us,
+  But they shall not to slavery doom us:
+  If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves;
+  But we've smote them already with fire on the waves,
+  And new triumphs on the land are before us,
+  To the charge!--Heaven's banner is o'er us.
+
+  This day shall ye blush for its story,
+  Or brighten your lives with its glory.
+  Our women, oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,
+  Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair?
+  Accursed may his memory blacken,
+  If a coward there be that would slacken
+  Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth
+  Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.
+  Strike home, and the world shall revere us
+  As heroes descended from heroes.
+
+  Old Greece lightens up with emotion
+  Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean;
+  Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring,
+  And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring:
+  Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,
+  That were cold and extinguished in sadness;
+  Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms,
+  Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms,
+  When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens
+  Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+SHERIDAN'S RIDE.
+
+OCTOBER 19, 1864.
+
+
+  Up from the South at break of day,
+  Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
+  The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
+  Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
+  The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
+  Telling the battle was on once more,
+  And Sheridan twenty miles away.
+
+  And wider still those billows of war
+  Thundered along the horizon's bar;
+  And louder yet into Winchester rolled
+  The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
+  Making the blood of the listener cold,
+  As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
+  And Sheridan twenty miles away.
+
+  But there is a road from Winchester town,
+  A good broad highway leading down;
+  And there, through the flash of the morning light,
+  A steed as black as the steeds of night
+  Was seen to pass as with eagle flight;
+  As if he knew the terrible need,
+  He stretched away with the utmost speed;
+  Hills rose and fell--but his heart was gay,
+  With Sheridan fifteen miles away.
+
+  Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,
+  The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth;
+  On the tail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
+  Forboding to traitors the doom of disaster.
+  The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
+  Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
+  Impatient to be where the battlefield calls;
+  Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
+  With Sheridan only ten miles away.
+
+  Under his spurning feet the road
+  Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
+  And the landscape flowed away behind,
+  Like an ocean flying before the wind;
+  And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
+  Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire;
+  But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire,
+  He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
+  With Sheridan only five miles away.
+
+  The first that the General saw were the groups
+  Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
+  What was done--what to do--a glance told him both,
+  Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,
+  He dashed down the lines 'mid a storm of huzzas,
+  And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because
+  The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
+  With foam and with dust the black charger was gray,
+  By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play
+  He seemed to the whole great army to say:
+  "I've brought you Sheridan all the way
+  From Winchester down to save the day!"
+
+  Hurrah! hurrah! for Sheridan!
+  Hurrah! hurrah! for horse and man!
+  And when their statues are placed on high,
+  Under the dome of the Union sky--
+  The American soldier's temple of fame--
+  There with the glorious General's name,
+  Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:
+  "Here is the steed that saved the day
+  By carrying Sheridan into the fight
+  From Winchester, twenty miles away!"
+
+                                                 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE HURRICANE.
+
+
+    Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
+  I know thy breath in the burning sky!
+  And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
+  For the coming of the hurricane!
+
+    And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,
+  Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;
+  Silent and slow, and terribly strong,
+  The mighty shadow is borne along,
+  Like the dark eternity to come;
+  While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
+  Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere,
+  Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.
+
+    They darken fast; and the golden blaze
+  Of the sun is quenched in the lurid haze,
+  And he sends through the shade a funeral ray--
+  A glare that is neither night nor day,
+  A beam that touches, with hues of death,
+  The clouds above and the earth beneath.
+  To its covert glides the silent bird,
+  While the hurricane's distant voice is heard
+  Uplifted among the mountains round,
+  And the forests hear and answer the sound.
+
+    He is come! he is come! do ye not behold
+  His ample robes on the winds unrolled?
+  Giant of air! we bid thee hail!--
+  How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale:
+  How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
+  To clasp the zone of the firmament,
+  And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
+  From mountain to mountain the visible space.
+
+    Darker--still darker! the whirlwinds bear
+  The dust of the plains to the middle air:
+  And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
+  Of the chariot of God in the thundercloud!
+  You may trace its path by the flashes that start
+  From the rapid wheels where'er they dart,
+  As the fire-bolts leap to the world below,
+  And flood the skies with a lurid glow.
+
+    What roar is that?--'tis the rain that breaks
+  In torrents away from the airy lakes,
+  Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
+  And shedding a nameless horror round.
+  Ah! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies,
+  With the very clouds!--ye are lost to my eyes.
+  I seek ye vainly, and see in your place
+  The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,
+  A whirling ocean that fills the wall
+  Of the crystal heaven, and buries all.
+  And I, cut off from the world, remain
+  Alone with the terrible hurricane.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: JOSEPH ADDISON.]
+
+WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD.
+
+
+  When all Thy mercies, O my God,
+    My rising soul surveys;
+  Transported with the view, I'm lost
+    In wonder, love, and praise.
+
+  O how shall words with equal warmth
+    The gratitude declare
+  That glows within my ravished heart!
+    But Thou canst read it there.
+
+  Unnumbered comforts on my soul
+    Thy tender care bestowed,
+  Before my infant heart conceived
+    From whom these comforts flowed.
+
+  Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
+    My daily thanks employ;
+  Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
+    That tastes those gifts with joy.
+
+  Through every period of my life,
+    Thy goodness I'll pursue;
+  And after death in distant worlds,
+    The glorious theme renew.
+
+  Through all eternity, to Thee
+    A joyful song I'll raise;
+  For, oh! eternity's too short
+    To utter all Thy praise.
+
+                                                       JOSEPH ADDISON.
+
+
+
+
+THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
+
+
+  I say to thee, do thou repeat
+  To the first man thou mayest meet
+  In lane, highway, or open street--
+
+  That he and we and all men move
+  Under a canopy of love,
+  As broad as the blue sky above;
+
+  That doubt and trouble, fear and pain
+  And anguish, all are shadows vain,
+  That death itself shall not remain;
+
+  That weary deserts we may tread,
+  A dreary labyrinth may thread,
+  Through dark ways underground be led;
+
+  Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
+  The dreariest path, the darkest way,
+  Shall issue out in heavenly day;
+
+  And we, on divers shores now cast,
+  Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
+  All in our Father's house at last.
+
+                                                    RICHARD C. TRENCH.
+
+
+
+
+THE NOBLE NATURE.
+
+
+  It is not growing like a tree
+  In bulk, doth make man better be;
+  Or standing long an oak three hundred year,
+  To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere;
+      A lily of a day
+      Is fairer far in May,
+  Although it fall and die that night--
+  It was the plant and flower of Light.
+  In small proportions we just beauty see;
+  And in short measures life may perfect be.
+
+                                                           BEN JONSON.
+
+
+
+
+WINSTANLEY.
+
+
+  Winstanley's deed, you kindly folk,
+    With it I fill my lay,
+  And a nobler man ne'er walked the world,
+    Let his name be what it may.
+
+  The good ship Snowdrop tarried long;
+    Up at the vane looked he;
+  "Belike," he said, for the wind had dropped,
+    "She lieth becalmed at sea."
+
+  The lovely ladies flocked within,
+    And still would each one say,
+  "Good mercer, be the ships come up?"--
+    But still he answered, "Nay."
+
+  Then stepped two mariners down the street,
+    With looks of grief and fear:
+  "Now, if Winstanley be your name,
+    We bring you evil cheer!
+
+  "For the good ship Snowdrop struck,--she struck
+    On the rock,--the Eddystone,
+  And down she went with threescore men,
+    We two being left alone.
+
+  "Down in the deep with freight and crew,
+    Past any help she lies,
+  And never a bale has come to shore
+    Of all thy merchandise."
+
+  "For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,"
+    Winstanley said and sighed,
+  "For velvet coif, or costly coat,
+    They fathoms deep may bide.
+
+  "O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind,
+    O mariners, bold and true,
+  Sorry at heart, right sorry am I,
+    A-thinking of yours and you.
+
+  "Many long days Winstanley's breast
+    Shall feel a weight within,
+  For a waft of wind he shall be 'feared,
+    And trading count but sin.
+
+  "To him no more it shall be joy
+    To pace the cheerful town,
+  And see the lovely ladies gay
+    Step on in velvet gown."
+
+  The Snowdrop sank at Lammas tide,
+    All under the yeasty spray;
+  On Christmas Eve the brig Content
+    Was also cast away.
+
+  He little thought o' New Year's night,
+    So jolly as he sat then,
+  While drank the toast and praised the roast
+    The round-faced Aldermen,--
+
+  He little thought on Plymouth Hoe,
+    With every rising tide,
+  How the wave washed in his sailor lads,
+    And laid them by his side.
+
+  There stepped a stranger to the board:
+    "Now, stranger, who be ye?"
+  He looked to the right, he looked to the left,
+    And "Rest you merry," quoth he;
+
+  "For you did not see the brig go down,
+    Or ever a storm had blown;
+  For you did not see the white wave rear
+    At the rock,--the Eddystone.
+
+  "She drave at the rock with stern sails set;
+    Crash went the masts in twain;
+  She staggered back with her mortal blow,
+    Then leaped at it again.
+
+  "There rose a great cry, bitter and strong;
+    The misty moon looked out!
+  And the water swarmed with seamen's heads,
+    And the wreck was strewed about.
+
+  "I saw her mainsail lash the sea,
+    As I clung to the rock alone;
+  Then she heeled over, and down she went,
+    And sank like any stone.
+
+  "She was a fair ship, but all's one!
+    For naught could bide the shock."--
+  "I will take horse," Winstanley said,
+    "And see this deadly rock.
+
+  "For never again shall bark o' mine
+    Sail o'er the windy sea,
+  Unless, by the blessing of God, for this
+    Be found a remedy."
+
+  Winstanley rode to Plymouth town
+    All in the sleet and the snow;
+  And he looked around on shore and sound,
+    As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.
+
+  Till a pillar of spray rose far away,
+    And shot up its stately head,
+  Reared, and fell over, and reared again:
+    "'Tis the rock! the rock!" he said.
+
+  Straight to the Mayor he took his way:
+    "Good Master Mayor," quoth he,
+  "I am a mercer of London town,
+    And owner of vessels three.
+
+  "But for your rock of dark renown,
+    I had five to track the main."--
+  "You are one of many," the old Mayor said,
+    "That of the rock complain.
+
+  "An ill rock, mercer! your words ring right,
+    Well with my thoughts they chime,
+  For my two sons to the world to come
+    It sent before their time."
+
+  "Lend me a lighter, good Master Mayor,
+    And a score of shipwrights free;
+  For I think to raise a lantern tower
+    On this rock o' destiny."
+
+  The old Mayor laughed, but sighed also:
+    "Ah, youth," quoth he, "is rash;
+  Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it out
+    From the sea that doth it lash.
+
+  "Who sails too near its jagged teeth,
+    He shall have evil lot;
+  For the calmest seas that tumble there
+    Froth like a boiling pot.
+
+  "And the heavier seas few look on nigh,
+    But straight they lay him dead;
+  A seventy-gun-ship, sir!--they'll shoot
+    Higher than her masthead.
+
+  "Oh, beacons sighted in the dark,
+    They are right welcome things,
+  And pitch pots flaming on the shore
+    Show fair as angel wings.
+
+  "Hast gold in hand? then light the land,
+    It 'longs to thee and me;
+  But let alone the deadly rock
+    In God Almighty's sea."
+
+  Yet said he, "Nay,--I must away,
+    On the rock to set my feet;
+  My debts are paid, my will I made,
+    Or ever I did thee greet.
+
+  "If I must die, then let me die
+    By the rock and not elsewhere;
+  If I may live, Oh let me live
+    To mount my lighthouse stair."
+
+  The old Mayor looked him in the face,
+    And answered, "Have thy way;
+  Thy heart is stout, as if round about
+    It was braced with an iron stay:
+
+  "Have thy will, mercer! choose thy men,
+    Put off from the storm-rid shore;
+  God with thee be, or I shall see
+    Thy face and theirs no more."
+
+  Heavily plunged the breaking wave,
+    And foam flew up the lea;
+  Morning and even the drifted snow
+    Fell into the dark gray sea.
+
+  Winstanley chose him men and gear;
+    He said, "My time I waste,"
+  For the seas ran seething up the shore,
+    And the wrack drave on in haste.
+
+  But twenty days he waited and more,
+    Pacing the strand alone,
+  Or ever he sat his manly foot
+    On the rock,--the Eddystone.
+
+  Then he and the sea began their strife,
+    And worked with power and might;
+  Whatever the man reared up by day
+    The sea broke down by night.
+
+  He wrought at ebb with bar and beam,
+    He sailed to shore at flow;
+  And at his side, by that same tide,
+    Came bar and beam also.
+
+  "Give in, give in," the old Mayor cried,
+    "Or thou wilt rue the day."--
+  "Yonder he goes," the townsfolk sighed,
+    "But the rock will have its way.
+
+  "For all his looks that are so stout,
+    And his speeches brave and fair,
+  He may wait on the wind, wait on the wave,
+    But he'll build no lighthouse there."
+
+  In fine weather and foul weather
+    The rock his arts did flout,
+  Through the long days and the short days,
+    Till all that year ran out.
+
+  With fine weather and foul weather
+    Another year came in;
+  "To take his wage," the workmen said,
+    "We almost count a sin."
+
+  Now March was gone, came April in,
+    And a sea fog settled down,
+  And forth sailed he on a glassy sea,
+    He sailed from Plymouth town.
+
+  With men and stores he put to sea,
+    As he was wont to do:
+  They showed in the fog like ghosts full faint,--
+    A ghostly craft and crew.
+
+  And the sea fog lay and waxed alway,
+    For a long eight days and more;
+  "God help our men," quoth the women then
+    "For they bide long from shore."
+
+  They paced the Hoe in doubt and dread;
+    "Where may our mariners be?"
+  But the brooding fog lay soft as down
+    Over the quiet sea.
+
+  A Scottish schooner made the port,
+    The thirteenth day at e'en;
+  "As I am a man," the captain cried,
+    "A strange sight I have seen:
+
+  "And a strange sound heard, my masters all,
+    At sea, in the fog and the rain,
+  Like shipwrights' hammers tapping low,
+    Then loud, then low again.
+
+  "And a stately house one instant showed,
+    Through a rift on the vessel's lea;
+  What manner of creatures may be those
+    That build upon the sea."
+
+  Then sighed the folk, "The Lord be praised!"
+    And they flocked to the shore amain:
+  All over the Hoe that livelong night,
+    Many stood out in the rain.
+
+  It ceased; and the red sun reared his head,
+    And the rolling fog did flee;
+  And, lo! in the offing faint and far
+    Winstanley's house at sea!
+
+  In fair weather with mirth and cheer
+    The stately tower uprose;
+  In foul weather with hunger and cold
+    They were content to close;
+
+  Till up the stair Winstanley went,
+    To fire the wick afar;
+  And Plymouth in the silent night
+    Looked out and saw her star.
+
+  Winstanley set his foot ashore;
+    Said he, "My work is done;
+  I hold it strong to last as long
+    As aught beneath the sun.
+
+  "But if it fail, as fail it may,
+    Borne down with ruin and rout,
+  Another than I shall rear it high,
+    And brace the girders stout.
+
+  "A better than I shall rear it high,
+    For now the way is plain;
+  And though I were dead," Winstanley said,
+    "The light would shine again.
+
+  "Yet were I fain still to remain,
+    Watch in my tower to keep,
+  And tend my light in the stormiest night
+    That ever did move the deep;
+
+  "And if it stood, why then 'twere good,
+    Amid their tremulous stirs,
+  To count each stroke when the mad waves broke,
+    For cheers of mariners.
+
+  "But if it fell, then this were well,
+    That I should with it fall;
+  Since, for my part, I have built my heart
+    In the courses of its wall.
+
+  "Ay! I were fain, long to remain,
+    Watch in my tower to keep,
+  And tend my light in the stormiest night
+    That ever did move the deep."
+
+  With that Winstanley went his way,
+    And left the rock renowned,
+  And summer and winter his pilot star
+    Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.
+
+  But it fell out, fell out at last,
+    That he would put to sea,
+  To scan once more his lighthouse tower
+    On the rock o' destiny.
+
+  And the winds broke, and the storm broke,
+    And wrecks came plunging in;
+  None in the town that night lay down
+    Or sleep or rest to win.
+
+  The great mad waves were rolling graves,
+    And each flung up its dead;
+  The seething flow was white below,
+    And black the sky o'erhead.
+
+  And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn,
+    Broke on the trembling town,
+  And men looked south to the harbor mouth,
+    The lighthouse tower was down.
+
+  Down in the deep, where he doth sleep
+    Who made it shine afar,
+  And then in the night that drowned its light,
+    Set, with his pilot star.
+
+  Many fair tombs in the glorious glooms
+    At Westminster they show;
+  The brave and the great lie there in state;
+    Winstanley lieth low.
+
+                                                         JEAN INGELOW.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE STORM.
+
+
+  The tempest rages wild and high,
+  The waves lift up their voice and cry
+  Fierce answers to the angry sky,--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Through the black night and driving rain,
+  A ship is struggling, all in vain,
+  To live upon the stormy main;--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
+  Vain is it now to strive or dare;
+  A cry goes up of great despair,--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The stormy voices of the main,
+  The moaning wind and pelting rain
+  Beat on the nursery window pane:--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Warm curtained was the little bed,
+  Soft pillowed was the little head;
+  "The storm will wake the child," they said:--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  Cowering among his pillows white
+  He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
+  "Father, save those at sea to-night!"--
+                      _Miserere Domine._
+
+  The morning shone all clear and gay,
+  On a ship at anchor in the bay,
+  And on a little child at play,--
+                      _Gloria tibi Domine!_
+
+                                                ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.
+
+
+
+
+REST.
+
+
+  Rest is not quitting
+    The busy career;
+  Rest is the fitting
+    Of self to one's sphere:
+
+  'Tis the brook's motion,
+    Clear without strife;
+  Fleeting to ocean,
+    After its life:
+
+  'Tis loving and serving
+    The highest and best;
+  'Tis onward, unswerving,
+    And this is true rest.
+
+                                                               GOETHE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE GRASSHOPPER.
+
+
+  Happy insect! what can be
+  In happiness compared to thee?
+  Fed with nourishment divine,
+  The dewy morning's gentle wine!
+  Nature waits upon thee still,
+  And thy verdant cup does fill;
+  'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread,
+  Nature's self thy Ganymede.
+  Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing,
+  Happier than the happiest king!
+  All the fields which thou dost see,
+  All the plants belong to thee,
+  All that summer hours produce,
+  Fertile made with early juice:
+  Man for thee does sow and plow;
+  Farmer he and landlord thou!
+  Thou dost innocently joy,
+  Nor does thy luxury destroy.
+  The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
+  More harmonious than he.
+  Thee, country minds with gladness hear,
+  Prophet of the ripened year:
+  Thee Phoebus loves and does inspire;
+  Phoebus is himself thy sire.
+  To thee of all things upon earth,
+  Life is no longer than thy mirth.
+  Happy insect! happy thou,
+  Dost neither age nor winter know:
+  But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung
+  Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
+  (Voluptuous and wise withal,
+  Epicurean animal,)
+  Sated with the summer feast
+  Thou retir'st to endless rest.
+
+                                                       ABRAHAM COWLEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE CRICKET.
+
+
+  Little inmate, full of mirth,
+  Chirping on my kitchen hearth,
+  Wheresoe'er be thine abode,
+  Always harbinger of good,
+  Pay me for thy warm retreat
+  With a song more soft and sweet;
+  In return thou shalt receive
+  Such a strain as I can give.
+
+  Thus thy praise shall be expressed,
+  Inoffensive, welcome guest!
+  While the rat is on the scout,
+  And the mouse with curious snout,
+  With what vermin else infest
+  Ev'ry dish, and spoil the best;
+  Frisking thus before the fire,
+  Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
+
+  Though in voice and shape they be
+  Formed as if akin to thee,
+  Thou surpassest, happier far,
+  Happiest grasshoppers that are;
+  Theirs is but a summer's song,
+  Thine endures the winter long,
+  Unimpaired, and shrill, and clear,
+  Melody throughout the year.
+
+  Neither night, nor dawn of day,
+  Puts a period to thy play:
+  Sing then--and extend thy span
+  Far beyond the date of man.
+  Wretched man, whose years are spent
+  In repining discontent,
+  Lives not, aged though he be,
+  Half a span, compared with thee.
+
+                                                       WILLIAM COWPER.
+
+
+
+
+A WREN'S NEST.
+
+
+  Among the dwellings framed by birds
+    In field or forest with nice care,
+  Is none that with the little wren's
+    In snugness may compare.
+
+  No door the tenement requires,
+    And seldom needs a labored roof;
+  Yet is it to the fiercest sun
+    Impervious, and stormproof.
+
+  So warm, so beautiful withal,
+    In perfect fitness for its aim,
+  That to the kind by special grace
+    Their instinct surely came.
+
+  And when for their abodes they seek
+    An opportune recess,
+  The hermit has no finer eye
+    For shadowy quietness.
+
+  These find, 'mid ivied abbey walls,
+    A canopy in some still nook;
+  Others are penthoused by a brae
+    That overhangs a brook.
+
+  There to the brooding bird her mate
+    Warbles by fits his low clear song;
+  And by the busy streamlet both
+    Are sung to all day long.
+
+  Or in sequestered lanes they build,
+    Where, till the flitting bird's return,
+  Her eggs within the nest repose,
+    Like relics in an urn.
+
+  But still, where general choice is good,
+    There is a better and a best;
+  And, among fairest objects, some
+    Are fairer than the rest;
+
+  This, one of those small builders proved
+    In a green covert, where, from out
+  The forehead of a pollard oak,
+    The leafy antlers sprout;
+
+  For she who planned the mossy lodge,
+    Mistrusting her evasive skill,
+  Had to a primrose looked for aid
+    Her wishes to fulfill.
+
+  High on the trunk's projecting brow,
+    And fixed an infant's span above
+  The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,
+    The prettiest of the grove!
+
+  The treasure proudly did I show
+    To some whose minds without disdain
+  Can turn to little things; but once
+    Looked up for it in vain:
+
+  'Tis gone--a ruthless spoiler's prey,
+    Who heeds not beauty, love, or song,
+  'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved
+    Indignant at the wrong.
+
+  Just three days after, passing by
+    In clearer light the moss-built cell
+  I saw, espied its shaded mouth;
+    And felt that all was well.
+
+  The primrose for a veil had spread
+    The largest of her upright leaves;
+  And thus, for purposes benign,
+    A simple flower deceives.
+
+  Concealed from friends who might disturb
+    Thy quiet with no ill intent,
+  Secure from evil eyes and hands
+    On barbarous plunder bent,
+
+  Rest, mother bird! and when thy young
+    Take flight, and thou art free to roam,
+  When withered is the guardian flower,
+    And empty thy late home,
+
+  Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,
+    Amid the unviolated grove,
+  Housed near the growing primrose tuft
+    In foresight, or in love.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES.
+
+
+  'Twas on a lofty vase's side
+  Where China's gayest art had dyed
+  The azure flowers that blow,
+  Demurest of the tabby kind,
+  The pensive Selima, reclined,
+  Gazed on the lake below.
+
+  Her conscious tail her joy declared:
+  The fair, round face, the snowy beard,
+  The velvet of her paws,
+  Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
+  Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,--
+  She saw, and purred applause.
+
+  Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide
+  Two angel forms were seen to glide,
+  The Genii of the stream:
+  Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue,
+  Through richest purple, to the view
+  Betrayed a golden gleam.
+
+  The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
+  A whisker first, and then a claw,
+  With many an ardent wish,
+  She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize,--
+  What female heart can gold despise?
+  What cat's averse to fish?
+
+  Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,
+  Again she stretched, again she bent,
+  Nor knew the gulf between,--
+  Malignant Fate sat by and smiled,--
+  The slippery verge her feet beguiled;
+  She tumbled headlong in!
+
+  Eight times emerging from the flood,
+  She mewed to every watery god
+  Some speedy aid to send:
+  No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred,
+  Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard,--
+  A favorite has no friend!
+
+  From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived,
+  Know one false step is ne'er retrieved,
+  And be with caution bold:
+  Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
+  And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
+  Nor all that glitters gold!
+
+                                                          THOMAS GRAY.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLITARY REAPER.
+
+
+  Behold her, single in the field,
+  Yon solitary Highland Lass!
+  Reaping and singing by herself;
+  Stop here, or gently pass!
+  Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
+  And sings a melancholy strain;
+  O listen! for the vale profound
+  Is overflowing with the sound.
+
+  No nightingale did ever chaunt
+  More welcome notes to weary bands
+  Of travelers in some shady haunt,
+  Among Arabian sands;
+  A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard,
+  In springtime from the cuckoo bird,
+  Breaking the silence of the seas
+  Among the farthest Hebrides.
+
+  Will no one tell me what she sings?--
+  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+  For old, unhappy, far-off things,
+  And battles long ago:
+  Or is it some more humble lay,
+  Familiar matter of to-day?
+  Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
+  That has been, and may be again?
+
+  Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
+  As if her song could have no ending;
+  I saw her singing at her work,
+  And o'er the sickle bending;--
+  I listened, motionless and still;
+  And, as I mounted up the hill,
+  The music in my heart I bore,
+  Long after it was heard no more.
+
+                                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+
+
+CORONACH.
+
+
+  He is gone on the mountain,
+    He is lost to the forest,
+  Like a summer-dried fountain,
+    When our need was the sorest.
+  The fount reappearing
+    From the raindrops shall borrow;
+  But to us comes no cheering,
+    To Duncan no morrow!
+
+  The hand of the reaper
+    Takes the ears that are hoary,
+  But the voice of the weeper
+    Wails manhood in glory.
+  The autumn winds, rushing,
+    Waft the leaves that are searest,
+  But our flower was in flushing
+    When blighting was nearest.
+
+  Fleet foot on the correi,
+    Sage counsel in cumber,
+  Red hand in the foray,
+    How sound is thy slumber!
+  Like the dew on the mountain,
+    Like the foam on the river,
+  Like the bubble on the fountain,
+    Thou art gone, and forever.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING."
+
+
+  Life! we have been long together,
+  Through pleasant and through cloudy weather.
+  'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
+  Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
+  Then steal away, give little warning,
+  Choose thine own time;
+  Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter clime
+  Bid me "Good-morning."
+
+                                                ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.
+
+
+
+
+MOONRISE.
+
+
+    The moon is up, and yet it is not night--
+    Sunset divides the sky with her--a sea
+    Of glory streams along the Alpine height
+    Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free
+    From clouds, but of all colors seems to be--
+    Melted to one vast Iris of the West,
+    Where the Day joins the past Eternity;
+    While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
+  Floats through the azure air--an island of the blest.
+
+    A single star is at her side, and reigns
+    With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still
+    Yon sunny lea heaves brightly, and remains
+    Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rhaetian hill,
+    As Day and Night contending were, until
+    Nature reclaim'd her order:--gently flows
+    The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instill
+    The odorous purple of a new-born rose,
+  Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+TO A WATERFOWL.
+
+
+      Whither, midst falling dew,
+  While glow the heavens with the last steps of day
+  Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
+      Thy solitary way?
+
+      Vainly the fowler's eye
+  Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
+  As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
+      Thy figure floats along.
+
+      Seek'st thou the plashy brink
+  Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
+  Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
+      On the chafed ocean side?
+
+      There is a Power whose care
+  Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,--
+  The desert and illimitable air,--
+      Lone wandering, but not lost.
+
+      All day thy wings have fanned,
+  At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;
+  Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
+      Though the dark night is near.
+
+      And soon that toil shall end;
+  Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
+  And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
+      Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.
+
+      Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven
+  Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
+  Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
+      And shall not soon depart.
+
+      He who, from zone to zone,
+  Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
+  In the long way that I must tread alone,
+      Will lead my steps aright.
+
+                                                WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
+
+
+
+
+JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN.
+
+
+  Jerusalem, the golden!
+    With milk and honey blest;
+  Beneath thy contemplation
+    Sink heart and voice opprest.
+  I know not, O I know not
+    What joys await us there;
+  What radiancy of glory,
+    What bliss beyond compare.
+
+  They stand, those halls of Zion,
+    All jubilant with song,
+  And bright with many an angel,
+    And all the martyr throng.
+  The Prince is ever in them,
+    The daylight is serene;
+  The pastures of the blessed
+    Are decked in glorious sheen.
+
+  There is the throne of David;
+    And there, from care released,
+  The shout of them that triumph,
+    The song of them that feast.
+  And they, who with their Leader,
+    Have conquered in the fight,
+  Forever and forever
+    Are clad in robes of white.
+
+                            ST. BERNARD (translated by John M. Neale).
+
+
+
+
+O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM.
+
+
+  O Mother dear, Jerusalem!
+    When shall I come to thee?
+  When shall my sorrows have an end?
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+
+  O happy harbor of God's saints!
+    O sweet and pleasant soil!
+  In thee no sorrow can be found,
+    Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.
+
+  No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
+    Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
+  But every soul shines as the sun;
+    For God Himself gives light.
+
+  O my sweet home, Jerusalem!
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+  The King that sitteth on thy throne
+    In His felicity?
+
+  Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
+    Continually are green,
+  Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
+    As nowhere else are seen.
+
+  Right through thy streets, with pleasing sound
+    The living waters flow,
+  And on the banks, on either side,
+    The trees of life do grow.
+
+  Those trees each month yield ripened fruit;
+    For evermore they spring,
+  And all the nations of the earth
+    To thee their honors bring.
+
+  O Mother dear, Jerusalem!
+    When shall I come to thee?
+  When shall my sorrows have an end?
+    Thy joys when shall I see?
+
+                                                            ANONYMOUS.
+
+
+
+
+EVENING.
+
+
+  Abide with me from morn till eve,
+  For without Thee I cannot live:
+  Abide with me when night is nigh,
+  For without Thee I dare not die.
+
+  Thou Framer of the light and dark,
+  Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:
+  Amid the howling wintry sea
+  We are in port if we have Thee.
+
+  If some poor wandering child of Thine
+  Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,
+  Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
+  Let him no more lie down in sin.
+
+  Watch by the sick: enrich the poor
+  With blessings from Thy boundless store:
+  Be every mourner's sleep to-night
+  Like infants' slumbers, pure and light.
+
+  Come near and bless us when we wake,
+  Ere through the world our way we take;
+  Till in the ocean of Thy love
+  We lose ourselves in Heaven above.
+
+                                                           JOHN KEBLE.
+
+
+
+
+GOOD-NIGHT.
+
+
+  Close now thine eyes, and rest secure;
+      Thy soul is safe enough; thy body sure;
+      He that loves thee, He that keeps
+  And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.
+  The smiling Conscience in a sleeping breast
+      Has only peace, has only rest:
+      The music and the mirth of kings
+  Are all but very discords, when she sings:
+      Then close thine eyes and rest secure;
+  No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.
+
+                                                      FRANCIS QUARLES.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEWDROP.
+
+
+  A dewdrop, falling on the ocean wave,
+  Exclaimed, in fear, "I perish in this grave!"
+  But, in a shell received, that drop of dew
+  Unto a pearl of marvelous beauty grew;
+  And, happy now, the grace did magnify
+  Which thrust it forth--as it had feared--to die;
+  Until again, "I perish quite!" it said
+  Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed:
+  O, unbelieving!--So it came to gleam
+  Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem.
+
+                                                    RICHARD C. TRENCH.
+
+
+
+
+VIRTUE.
+
+
+  Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright--
+  The bridal of the earth and sky;
+  The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
+      For thou must die.
+
+  Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
+  Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
+  Thy root is ever in its grave,
+      And thou must die.
+
+  Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
+  A box where sweets compacted lie,
+  My music shows ye have your closes,
+      And all must die.
+
+  Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
+  Like seasoned timber, never gives;
+  But though the whole world turns to coal,
+      Then chiefly lives.
+
+                                                       GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERITAGE.
+
+
+  The rich man's son inherits lands,
+    And piles of brick, and stone, and gold,
+  And he inherits soft white hands,
+    And tender flesh that fears the cold,
+    Nor dares to wear a garment old;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  The rich man's son inherits cares;
+    The bank may break, the factory burn,
+  A breath may burst his bubble shares,
+    And soft white hands could hardly earn
+    A living that would serve his turn;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  The rich man's son inherits wants,
+    His stomach craves for dainty fare;
+  With sated heart, he hears the pants
+    Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare,
+    And wearies in his easy-chair;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    Stout muscles and a sinewy heart,
+  A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
+    King of two hands, he does his part
+    In every useful toil and art;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things,
+  A rank adjudged by toil-won merit,
+    Content that from employment springs,
+    A heart that in his labor sings;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  What doth the poor man's son inherit?
+    A patience learned of being poor,
+  Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,
+    A fellow-feeling that is sure
+    To make the outcast bless his door;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  A king might wish to hold in fee.
+
+  O rich man's son! there is a toil
+    That with all others level stands;
+  Large charity doth never soil,
+    But only whiten, soft white hands,--
+    This is the best crop from thy lands;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Worth being rich to hold in fee.
+
+  O poor man's son! scorn not thy state;
+    There is worse weariness than thine,
+  In merely being rich and great;
+    Toil only gives the soul to shine,
+    And makes rest fragrant and benign;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Worth being poor to hold in fee.
+
+  Both, heirs to some six feet of sod,
+    Are equal in the earth at last;
+  Both, children of the same dear God,
+    Prove title to your heirship vast
+    By record of a well-filled past;
+  A heritage, it seems to me,
+  Well worth a life to hold in fee.
+
+                                                 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN.
+
+
+  A perilous life, and sad as life may be,
+  Hath the lone fisher, on the lonely sea,
+  O'er the wild waters laboring far from home,
+  For some bleak pittance e'er compelled to roam:
+  Few hearts to cheer him through his dangerous life,
+  And none to aid him in the stormy strife:
+  Companion of the sea and silent air,
+  The lonely fisher thus must ever fare:
+  Without the comfort, hope,--with scarce a friend,
+  He looks through life and only sees its end!
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+  A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
+    Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
+  And I'll give thee a silver pound,
+    To row us o'er the ferry."
+
+  "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
+    This dark and stormy water?"
+  "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
+    And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
+
+  "And fast before her father's men
+    Three days we've fled together,
+  For should he find us in the glen,
+    My blood would stain the heather.
+
+  "His horsemen hard behind us ride;
+    Should they our steps discover,
+  Then who will cheer my bonny bride
+    When they have slain her lover?"
+
+  Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
+    "I'll go, my chief--I'm ready:
+  It is not for your silver bright;
+    But for your winsome lady:
+
+  "And by my word! the bonny bird
+    In danger shall not tarry:
+  So though the waves are raging white,
+    I'll row you o'er the ferry."
+
+  By this the storm grew loud apace,
+    The water wraith was shrieking;
+  And in the scowl of heaven each face
+    Grew dark as they were speaking.
+
+  But still as wilder blew the wind,
+    And as the night grew drearer,
+  Adown the glen rode armed men,
+    Their trampling sounded nearer.
+
+  "Oh haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
+    "Though tempests round us gather;
+  I'll meet the raging of the skies,
+    But not an angry father."
+
+  The boat has left a stormy land,
+    A stormy sea before her,--
+  When, Oh! too strong for human hand,
+    The tempest gathered o'er her.
+
+  And still they rowed amidst the roar
+    Of waters fast prevailing:
+  Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
+    His wrath was changed to wailing.
+
+  For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
+    His child he did discover:
+  One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
+    And one was round her lover.
+
+  "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
+    "Across this stormy water:
+  And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
+    My daughter!--oh my daughter!"
+
+  'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
+    Return or aid preventing:
+  The waters wild went o'er his child,
+    And he was left lamenting.
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.
+
+
+  "Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
+    Why weep ye by the tide?
+  I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
+    And ye sall be his bride:
+  And ye sall be his bride, ladie,
+    Sae comely to be seen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  "Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
+    And dry that cheek so pale;
+  Young Frank is chief of Errington,
+    And lord of Langley-dale;
+  His step is first in peaceful ha',
+    His sword in battle keen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  "A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
+    Nor braid to bind your hair;
+  Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
+    Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
+  And you, the foremost o' them a',
+    Shall ride our forest queen"--
+  But aye she loot the tears down fa'
+    For Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+  The kirk was decked at morningtide,
+    The tapers glimmered fair;
+  The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
+    And dame and knight are there.
+  They sought her baith by bower and ha',
+    The ladie was not seen!
+  She's o'er the Border, and awa'
+    Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+
+
+
+EXILE OF ERIN.
+
+
+  There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
+    The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
+  For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing
+    To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:
+  But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
+  For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
+  Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,
+    He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.
+
+  Sad is my fate! said the heartbroken stranger;
+    The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,
+  But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
+    A home and a country remain not to me.
+  Never again, in the green sunny bowers,
+  Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,
+  Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,
+    And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!
+
+  Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,
+    In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
+  But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
+    And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
+  Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me
+  In a mansion of peace--where no perils can chase me?
+  Never again shall my brothers embrace me?
+    They died to defend me or live to deplore!
+
+  Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?
+    Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall?
+  Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
+    And where is the bosom friend clearer than all?
+  Oh! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure,
+  Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure?
+  Tears, like the raindrop, may fall without measure,
+    But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.
+
+  Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,
+    One dying wish my lone bosom can draw;
+  Erin! an exile bequeathes thee his blessing!
+    Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!
+  Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,
+  Green be thy field,--sweetest isle of the ocean!
+  And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,--
+    Erin mavournin--Erin go bragh!
+
+                                                      THOMAS CAMPBELL.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+  The heath this night must be my bed,
+  The bracken curtain for my head,
+  My lullaby the warder's tread,
+    Far, far from love and thee, Mary;
+  To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
+  My couch may be my bloody plaid,
+  My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid!
+    It will not waken me, Mary!
+
+  I may not, dare not, fancy now
+  The grief that clouds thy lovely brow;
+  I dare not think upon thy vow,
+    And all it promised me, Mary.
+  No fond regret must Norman know;
+  When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,
+  His heart must be like bended bow,
+    His foot like arrow free, Mary.
+
+  A time will come with feeling fraught!
+  For, if I fall in battle fought,
+  Thy hapless lover's dying thought
+    Shall be a thought on thee, Mary:
+  And if returned from conquered foes,
+  How blithely will the evening close,
+  How sweet the linnet sing repose
+    To my young bride and me, Mary.
+
+                                                     SIR WALTER SCOTT.
+
+_From "The Lady of The Lake."_
+
+
+
+
+THE BANKS O' DOON.
+
+(SECOND VERSION.)
+
+
+  Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
+    How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
+  How can ye chant, ye little birds,
+    And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
+  Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
+    That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
+  Thou minds me o' departed joys,
+    Departed--never to return!
+
+  Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
+    To see the rose and woodbine twine;
+  And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
+    And fondly sae did I o' mine.
+  Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
+    Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
+  And my fause lover stole my rose,
+    But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
+
+                                                         ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+LADY CLARE.
+
+
+  It was the time when lilies blow,
+    And clouds are highest up in air,
+  Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
+    To give his cousin, Lady Clare.
+
+  I trow they did not part in scorn:
+    Lovers long betrothed were they:
+  They two will wed the morrow morn:
+    God's blessing on the day!
+
+  "He does not love me for my birth,
+    Nor for my lands so broad and fair;
+  He loves me for my own true worth,
+    And that is well," said Lady Clare.
+
+  In there came old Alice the nurse,
+    Said, "Who was this that went from thee?"
+  "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,
+    "To-morrow he weds with me."
+
+  "O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse,
+    "That all comes round so just and fair:
+  Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,
+    And you are not the Lady Clare."
+
+  "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?"
+    Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?"
+  "As God is above," said Alice the nurse,
+    "I speak the truth: you are my child.
+
+  "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;
+    I speak the truth, as I live by bread!
+  I buried her like my own sweet child,
+    And put my child in her stead."
+
+  "Falsely, falsely have ye done,
+    O mother," she said, "if this be true,
+  To keep the best man under the sun
+    So many years from his due."
+
+  "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
+    "But keep the secret for your life,
+  And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
+    When you are man and wife."
+
+  "If I'm a beggar born," she said,
+    "I will speak out, for I dare not lie.
+  Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold,
+    And fling the diamond necklace by."
+
+  "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
+    "But keep the secret all ye can."
+  She said, "Not so: but I will know
+    If there be any faith in man."
+
+  "Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse,
+    "The man will cleave unto his right."
+  "And he shall have it," the lady replied,
+    "Tho' I should die to-night."
+
+  "Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!
+    Alas, my child, I sinned for thee."
+  "O mother, mother, mother," she said,
+    "So strange it seems to me.
+
+  "Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,
+    My mother dear, if this be so,
+  And lay your hand upon my head,
+    And bless me, mother, ere I go."
+
+  She clad herself in a russet gown,
+    She was no longer Lady Clare:
+  She went by dale, and she went by town,
+    With a single rose in her hair.
+
+  The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought
+    Leapt up from where she lay,
+  Dropt her head in the maiden's hand,
+    And followed her all the way.
+
+  Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:
+    "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!
+  Why come you drest like a village maid,
+    That are the flower of the earth?"
+
+  "If I come drest like a village maid,
+    I am but as my fortunes are:
+  I am a beggar born," she said,
+    "And not the Lady Clare."
+
+  "Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
+    "For I am yours in word and deed.
+  Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
+    "Your riddle is hard to read."
+
+  O and proudly stood she up!
+    Her heart within her did not fail:
+  She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes,
+    And told him all her nurse's tale.
+
+  He laughed a laugh of merry scorn:
+    He turned and kissed her where she stood:
+  "If you are not the heiress born,
+    And I," said he, "the next in blood--
+
+  "If you are not the heiress born,
+    And I," said he, "the lawful heir,
+  We two will wed to-morrow morn,
+    And you shall still be Lady Clare."
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+
+
+
+BELSHAZZAR.
+
+
+  Belshazzar is king! Belshazzar is lord!
+  And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board:
+  Fruits glisten, flowers blossom, meats steam, and a flood
+  Of the wine that man loveth, runs redder than blood;
+  Wild dancers are there, and a riot of mirth,
+  And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth;
+          And the crowds all shout,
+          Till the vast roofs ring,--
+  "All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
+
+  "Bring forth," cries the Monarch, "the vessels of gold,
+  Which my father tore down from the temples of old;--
+  Bring forth, and we'll drink, while the trumpets are blown,
+  To the gods of bright silver, of gold, and of stone;
+  Bring forth!" and before him the vessels all shine,
+  And he bows unto Baal, and drinks the dark wine;
+          Whilst the trumpets bray,
+          And the cymbals ring,--
+  "Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
+
+  Now what cometh--look, look!--without menace, or call?
+  Who writes, with the lightning's bright hand, on the wall?
+  What pierceth the king like the point of a dart?
+  What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?
+  "Chaldeans! Magicians! the letters expound!"
+  They are read--and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!
+          Hark!--the Persian is come
+          On a conqueror's wing;
+  And a Mede's on the throne of Belshazzar the king.
+
+                              BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (_Barry Cornwall_).
+
+[Illustration: BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST.
+
+J. MARTIN.]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW.
+
+AN INCIDENT OF THE SEPOY MUTINY.
+
+
+  Pipes of the misty moorlands,
+    Voice of the glens and hills;
+  The droning of the torrents,
+    The treble of the rills!
+  Not the braes of broom and heather,
+    Nor the mountains dark with rain,
+  Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,
+    Have heard your sweetest strain!
+
+  Dear to the Lowland reaper,
+    And plaided mountaineer,--
+  To the cottage and the castle
+    The Scottish pipes are dear;--
+  Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch
+    O'er mountain, loch, and glade;
+  But the sweetest of all music
+    The pipes at Lucknow played.
+
+  Day by day the Indian tiger
+    Louder yelled, and nearer crept;
+  Round and round, the jungle serpent
+    Near and nearer circles swept.
+  "Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,--
+    Pray to-day!" the soldier said,
+  "To-morrow, death's between us
+    And the wrong and shame we dread,"
+
+  Oh, they listened, looked, and waited,
+    Till their hope became despair;
+  And the sobs of low bewailing
+    Filled the pauses of their prayer.
+  Then up spake a Scottish maiden,
+    With her ear unto the ground:
+  "Dinna ye hear it?--dinna ye hear it?
+    The pipes o' Havelock sound!"
+
+  Hushed the wounded man his groaning;
+    Hushed the wife her little ones;
+  Alone they heard the drum-roll
+    And the roar of Sepoy guns.
+  But to sounds of home and childhood
+    The Highland ear was true;--
+  As her mother's cradle crooning
+    The mountain pipes she knew.
+
+  Like the march of soundless music
+    Through the vision of the seer,
+  More of feeling than of hearing,
+    Of the heart than of the ear,
+  She knew the droning pibroch,
+    She knew the Campbell's call:
+  "Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's,
+    The grandest o' them all!"
+
+  Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless,
+    And they caught the sound at last;
+  Faint and far beyond the Goomtee
+    Rose and fell the piper's blast!
+  Then a burst of wild thanksgiving
+    Mingled woman's voice and man's;
+  "God be praised!--the march of Havelock!
+    The piping of the clans!"
+
+  Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,
+    Sharp and shrill as swords at strife,
+  Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call,
+    Stinging all the air to life.
+  But when the far-off dust cloud
+    To plaided legions grew,
+  Full tenderly and blithesomely
+    The pipes of rescue blew!
+
+  Round the silver domes of Lucknow,
+    Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine,
+  Breathed the air to Britons dearest,
+    The air of Auld Lang Syne.
+  O'er the cruel roll of war drums
+    Rose that sweet and homelike strain;
+  And the tartan clove the turban,
+    As the Goomtee cleaves the plain.
+
+  Dear to the corn-land reaper
+    And plaided mountaineer,--
+  To the cottage and the castle
+    The piper's song is dear.
+  Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch
+    O'er mountain, glen, and glade;
+  But the sweetest of all music
+    The pipes at Lucknow played!
+
+                                              JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
+
+[Illustration: THE RESIDENCY, LUCKNOW, INDIA.]
+
+
+
+
+COMPANIONSHIP WITH NATURE.
+
+
+    Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;
+    Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home;
+    Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,
+    He had the passion and the power to roam;
+    The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam,
+    Were unto him companionship; they spake
+    A mutual language, clearer than the tome
+    Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake
+  For Nature's pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+THE GLADIATOR.
+
+
+    I see before me the Gladiator lie:
+    He leans upon his hand--his manly brow
+    Consents to death, but conquers agony,
+    And his drooped head sinks gradually low--
+    And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
+    From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
+    Like the first of a thunder shower; and now
+    The arena swims around him--he is gone,
+  Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
+
+    He heard it, but he heeded not--his eyes
+    Were with his heart, and that was far away;
+    He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,
+    But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
+    There were his young barbarians all at play,
+    There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
+    Butchered to make a Roman holiday--
+    All this rushed with his blood--Shall he expire,
+  And unavenged?--Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire.
+
+                                        LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
+
+_From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."_
+
+
+
+
+"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX."
+
+
+  I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
+  I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
+  "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew;
+  "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
+  Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
+  And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
+
+  Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
+  Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
+  I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
+  Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
+  Rebuckled the cheek strap, chained slacker the bit,
+  Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
+
+  'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
+  Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
+  At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
+  At Dueffield, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
+  And from Mecheln church steeple we heard half the chime,
+  So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
+
+  At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
+  And against him the cattle stood black every one,
+  To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,
+  And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
+  With resolute shoulders, each butting away
+  The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
+
+  And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
+  For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
+  And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance
+  O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
+  And the thick heavy spume flakes which aye and anon
+  His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
+
+  By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
+  Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
+  We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze
+  Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
+  And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
+  As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
+
+  So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
+  Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
+  The broad sun above laughs a pitiless laugh,
+  'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
+  Till over by Dalhem a dome spire sprang white,
+  And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight.
+
+  "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan
+  Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
+  And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
+  Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
+  With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
+  And with circles of red for his eye sockets' rim.
+
+  Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall,
+  Shook off both my jack boots, let go belt and all,
+  Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
+  Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;
+  Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good
+  Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
+
+  And all I remember is, friends flocking round
+  As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
+  And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
+  As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
+  Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
+  Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
+
+                                                      ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+SANDALPHON.
+
+
+  Have you read in the Talmud of old,
+  In the Legends the Rabbins have told
+    Of the limitless realms of the air,
+  Have you read it,--the marvelous story
+  Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,
+    Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?
+
+  How, erect, at the outermost gates
+  Of the City Celestial he waits,
+    With his feet on the ladder of light,
+  That, crowded with angels unnumbered,
+  By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered
+    Alone in the desert at night?
+
+  The Angels of Wind and of Fire
+  Chant only one hymn, and expire
+    With the song's irresistible stress;
+  Expire in their rapture and wonder,
+  As harp strings are broken asunder
+    By music they throb to express.
+
+  But serene in the rapturous throng,
+  Unmoved by the rush of the song,
+    With eyes unimpassioned and slow,
+  Among the dead angels, the deathless
+  Sandalphon stands listening breathless
+    To sounds that ascend from below;--
+
+  From the spirits on earth that adore,
+  From the souls that entreat and implore
+    In the fervor and passion of prayer;
+  From the hearts that are broken with losses,
+  And weary with dragging the crosses
+    Too heavy for mortals to bear.
+
+  And he gathers the prayers as he stands,
+  And they change into flowers in his hands,
+    Into garlands of purple and red;
+  And beneath the great arch of the portal,
+  Through the streets of the City Immortal
+    Is wafted the fragrance they shed.
+
+  It is but a legend, I know,--
+  A fable, a phantom, a show,
+    Of the ancient Rabbinical lore;
+  Yet the old mediaeval tradition,
+  The beautiful, strange superstition,
+    But haunts me and holds me the more.
+
+  When I look from my window at night,
+  And the welkin above is all white,
+    All throbbing and panting with stars,
+  Among them majestic is standing
+  Sandalphon, the angel, expanding
+    His pinions in nebulous bars.
+
+  And the legend, I feel, is a part
+  Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,
+    The frenzy and fire of the brain,
+  That grasps at the fruitage forbidden,
+  The golden pomegranates of Eden,
+    To quiet its fever and pain.
+
+                                           HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: JOHN MILTON.]
+
+HYMN.
+
+ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+
+  It was the winter wild
+  While the heaven-born child
+  All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies;
+  Nature in awe to him
+  Has doffed her gaudy trim,
+  With her great Master so to sympathize:
+
+  No war, or battle's sound
+  Was heard the world around;
+  The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+  The hooked chariot stood
+  Unstained with hostile blood;
+  The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
+  And kings sat still with awful eye,
+  As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+  But peaceful was the night
+  Wherein the Prince of Light
+  His reign of peace upon the earth began;
+  The winds with wonder whist,
+  Smoothly the waters kissed
+  Whispering new joys to the mild ocean--
+  Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+  While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
+
+  The stars with deep amaze,
+  Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,
+  Bending one way their precious influence;
+  And will not take their flight
+  For all the morning light,
+  Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;
+  But in their glimmering orbs did glow
+  Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+  Yea, Truth and Justice then
+  Will down return to men,
+  Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+  Mercy will sit between
+  Throned in celestial sheen,
+  With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering
+  And Heaven, as at some festival
+  Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
+
+[Illustration: HOLY NIGHT.
+
+H. GRASS.]
+
+  But wisest Fate says no;
+  This must not yet be so;
+  The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy
+  That on the bitter cross
+  Must redeem our loss;
+  So both himself and us to glorify;
+  Yet first, to those ychained in sleep,
+  The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+  But see, the Virgin blest
+  Hath laid her Babe to rest;
+  Time is, our tedious song should here have ending;
+  Heaven's youngest-teemed star
+  Hath fixed her polished car,
+  Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending:
+  And all about the courtly stable
+  Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable.
+
+                                                          JOHN MILTON.
+
+_A Selection._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE NEW YEAR.
+
+
+  Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
+    The flying cloud, the frosty light:
+    The year is dying in the night;
+  Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
+
+  Ring out the old, ring in the new,
+    Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
+    The year is going, let him go;
+  Ring out the false, ring in the true.
+
+  Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
+    For those that here we see no more;
+    Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
+  Ring in redress to all mankind.
+
+  Ring out a slowly dying cause,
+    And ancient forms of party strife;
+    Ring in the nobler modes of life,
+  With sweeter manners, purer laws.
+
+  Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
+    The faithless coldness of the times;
+    Ring out, ring out, my mournful rhymes,
+  But ring the fuller minstrel in.
+
+  Ring out false pride in place and blood,
+    The civic slander and the spite;
+    Ring in the love of truth and right,
+  Ring in the common love of good.
+
+  Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
+    Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
+    Ring out the thousand wars of old,
+  Ring in the thousand years of peace.
+
+  Ring in the valiant man and free,
+    The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
+    Ring out the darkness of the land,
+  Ring in the Christ that is to be.
+
+                                                      ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_RECOMMENDED POEMS._
+
+
+As it has been impossible to include in this collection as many poems by
+American authors as we desired, we recommend the following, all of which
+are published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., with the exception of Bryant's
+poems, which are published by D. Appleton & Co.
+
+  ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY.
+    After the Rain.
+    Barberries.
+    Before the Rain.
+    The Bluebells of New England.
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.
+    A Northern Legend.
+    The Gladness of Nature.
+
+  CARY, ALICE.
+    The Gray Swan.
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO.
+    The Humblebee.
+
+  HARTE, BRET.
+    The Reveille.
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL.
+    A Sunday Hymn.
+    Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill.
+    The Chambered Nautilus.
+    The Height of the Ridiculous.
+    The Music Grinders.
+    The One Hoss Shay.
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH.
+    A Psalm of Life.
+    Burial of the Minnisink.
+    Christmas Bells.
+    Enceladus.
+    Paul Revere's Ride.
+    Santa Filomena.
+    Snowflakes.
+    Song of the Silent Land.
+    The Bell of Atri.
+    The Builders.
+    The Day is Done.
+    The Old Clock on the Stairs.
+    The Open Window.
+    The Ropewalk.
+    The Two Angels.
+    Victor Galbraith.
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL.
+    Stanzas on Freedom.
+    The Fatherland.
+    The Shepherd of King Admetus.
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF.
+    Abraham Davenport.
+    Laus Deus.
+    My Psalm.
+    Nanhaught, the Deacon.
+    The Corn Song.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Song, Book II, by Various
+
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