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Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Cut off; and for the book of knowledge fair, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long de- Presented with a universal blank tained
of nature's works, to me expunged and In that obscure sojourn ; while in my flight
razed, Through utter and through middle darkness And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out! borne,
So much the rather thou, celestial Light! With other notes than to the Orphean lyre, Shine inward, and the mind through all her I sung of Chaos, and eternal Night;
powers Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from down
thence The dark descent, and up to reascend, Purge and disperse ; that I may see and tell Though hard and rare! Thee I revisit safe, Of things invisible to mortal sight. And feel thy sovereign vital lamp; but thou
John Milton. Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; “WHATEVER IS, IS BEST." So thick a drop serene hath quenched their
KNOW, as my life grows older, orbs, Or dim suffusion veiled. Yet not the more
That under each rank Wrong, somewhere Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt
There lies the root of Right. Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, That each sorrow has its purpose, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
By the sorrowing oft unguessed, Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,
But as sure as the sun brings morning, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling
Whatever is, is best. flow, Nightly I visit; nor sometimes forget
I know that each sinful action, Those other two equaled with me in fate
As sure as the night brings shade, (So were I equaled with them in renown),
Is sometime, somewhere, punished, Blind Thamyris, and blind Mæonides,
Tho' the hour be long delayed. And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old;
I know that the soul is aided Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Sometimes by the heart's unrest, Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
And to grow means often to suffer; Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid,
But whatever is, is best. Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the I know there are no errors year
In the great Eternal plan, Seasons return; but not to me returns
And all things work together Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, For the final good of man. Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, And I know when my soul speeds onward Or, flocks or herds, or human face divine; In the grand, eternal quest, But cloud instead, and ever-during dark I shall say, as I look earthward, Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of Whatever is, is best. men
LOVE. °HAT is what we want-love toward God and love toward man. It is said the larks of
Scotland are the sweetest singing birds of earth. No piece of mechanism that man has ever made has the soft, sweet, glorious music in it that the lark's throat has. When
the farmers of Scotland walk out early in the morning they flush the larks from the grass, and as they rise they sing, and as they sing they circle, and higher and higher they go, circling as they sing, until at last the notes of their voices die out in the sweetest strains that earth ever listened to. Let us begin to circle up, and sing as we circle, and go higher and higher, until we flood the throne of God itself, and the strains of our voices melt in sweetest sympathy with the music of the skies.
SAM. P. JONES.
But stills, with honest purposes, toil we on;
of our slips be upright, abrought,
the east, a golden light
THE HERMIT. JAR in a wild, unknown to public view, To find if books, or swains, report it right From youth to age a reverend hermit (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, grew:
Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
dew), His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well. He quits his cell; the pilgrim-staff he bore, Remote from men, with God he passed his And fixed the scallop in his hat before; days,
Then, with the rising sun a journey went, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. Sedate to think, and watching each event. A life so sacred, such serene repose
The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, Seemed heaven itself, till one suggestion rose: And long and lonesome was the wild to pass ;
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey; But when the southern sun had warmed the
His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
And, “Hail, my son!” the reverend sire reAnd skies beneath with answering colors plied. glow;
Words followed words, from question answer But, if a stone the gentle sea divide,
flowed, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, And talk of various kinds deceived the road; And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, Till each with other pleased, and, loath to Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder rún. part, To clear this doubt, to know the world by While in their age they differ, join in heart. sight,
Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus useful ivy clasps an elm around.
The changing skies hang out their sable Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
clouds; Came onward, mantled o’er with sober gray; A sound in air presaged approaching rain, Nature, in silence, bid the world repose, And beasts to covert scud across the plain. When, near the road, a stately palace rose. Warned by the signs, the wandering pair reThere, by the moon, through ranks of trees treat they pass,
To seek for shelter at a neighboring seat. Whose verdure crowned their sloping sides 'Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground,
And strong, and large, and unimproved It chanced the noble master of the dome
around; Still made his house the wandering stranger's Its owner's temper, timorous and severe, home;
Unkind and griping, caused a desert there. Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, As near the miser's heavy door they drew, Proved the vain flourish of expensive ease. Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew; The pair arrive; the liveried servants wait; The nimble lightning, mixed with showers, Their lord receives them at the pompous gate; began, The tables groan with costly piles of food, And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran; And all is more than hospitably good.
Here long they knock, but knock or call in Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they vain, drown,
Driven by the wind, and battered by the rain Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of At length some pity moves the master's down.
breast; At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, 'Twas then his mansion first received a guest; Along the wide canals the zephyrs play; Slow creaking turns the door with jealous Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, care, And shake the neighboring woods to banish And half he welcomes in the shivering pair. sleep.
One frugal fagot lights the naked walls, Up rise the guests, obedient to the call; And nature's fervor through their limbs reAn early banquet decks the splendid hall;
calls; Rich, luscious wine a golden goblet graced, Bread of the coarsest sort, with meager wine, Which the kind master forced the guests to Each hardly granted, served them both to taste.
dine; Then, pleased and thankful, from the porch And when the tempest first appeared to cease, they go;
A ready warning bid them part in peace; And, but the landlord, none had cause of With still remark, the pondering hermit viewwoe;
ed, His cup was vanished; for in secret guise, In one so rich, a life so poor and rude; The younger guest purloined the glittering And why should such, within himself he cried, prize.
Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside? As one who spies a serpent in his way,
But what new marks of wonder soon take Glittering and basking in the summer ray,
place Disordered stops to shun the danger near, In every settling feature of his face, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with When, from his vest, the young companion fear,
bore So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road, That cup the generous landlord owned before, The shining spoil his wily partner showed. And paid profusely with the precious bowl He stopped with silence, walked with trem- The stinted kindness of his churlish soul. bling heart,
But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; And much he wished, but durst not ask to The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky; part;
A fresher green the swelling leaves display, Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the hard
day; That generous actions meet a base reward. The weather courts them from their poor reWhile thus they pass, the sun his glory treat, shrouds,
And the glad master bolts the weary gate.
While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom Again the wanderers want a place to lie; wrought
Again they search, and find a lodging nigh. With all the travail of uncertain thought; The soil improved around, the mansion neat, His partner's acts without their cause appear; And neither poorly low, nor idly great ; 'Twas there a vice, and seemed a madness It seemed to speak its master's turn of mind, here;
Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind.
WIMS. “ When the grave household round his ball repair,
Warned by a bell, and close the bour with prayer." Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Hither the walkers turn their weary feet, Lost and confounded with the various shows. Then bless the mansion, and the master greet. Now night's dim shades again involve the Their greeting fair, bestowed with modest sky;