Down to the earth, and bends his rapid pace
Unto the king's pavilion. The wild steed,
Unled, uncalled, is following his subduer.
Philip wept tears of joy: "My son, go seek
A larger empire; for so vast a soul

Too small is Macedonia!"

Park Benjamin.

ANNE HATHAWAY.

ONCE on a time, when jewels flashed,
And moonlit fountains softly splashed,
And all the air was sweet and bright
With music, mirth, and deft delight,
A courtly dame drew, laughing, near
A poet-greatest of his time,
And chirped a question in his ear,

With voice like silver bells in chime:
"Good Mr. Shakespeare, I would know
What name thy lady bore, in sooth,
Ere thine. Nay, little time ago

It seems-for we still mark her youth;
Some high-born name, I trow, and yet,
Although I've heard it, I forget."
Then answered he with dignity,
Yet blithely, for the hour was gay,
"My Lady's name? Anne Hathaway."

"And good, sweet sir," the dame pursued,
Too fair and winsome to be rude,
""Tis whispered here, and whispered there,
By doughty knights and ladies fair,

That-that-well, that her loyal lord
Doth e'en obey her slightest will.
Now, my good lord-I pledge my word-
Though loving well, doth heed me ill;
How art thou conquered, prithee, tell,"
She pleaded with her pretty frown;
"I fain would know what mighty spell
Can bring a haughty husband down."
She ceased, and raised her eager face
To his, with laughing, plaintive grace.
Then answered he with dignity,
Yet blithely, for the hour was gay,
"Ah, Lady! I can only say

Her name again—Anne Hath-a-way.”

THE INQUIRY.

TELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar,

Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more?

Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the

west,

Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest?

The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it answered-"No."

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play,

Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far away,

Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs

Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies ?

The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer— "No."

And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely

face,

Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's em

brace,

Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot

Where miserable man might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded"No."

Tell me, my secret soul-oh, tell me, Hope and Faith,

Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin and death ?

Is there no happy spot where mortals may be blessed,

Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals

given,

Waved their bright wings, and whispered

66
"YES, IN HEAVEN!"

Charles Mackay.

THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP.

ALL is finished! and at length

Has come the bridal day

Of beauty and of strength.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!
With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched,
And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in all his splendors dight,

The great sun rises to behold the sight.

The ocean old,

Centuries old,

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled,
Paces restless to and fro,

Up and down the sands of gold.

His beating heart is not at rest;
And far and wide,

With ceaseless flow,

His beard of snow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.

He waits impatient for his bride.

There she stands,

With her foot upon the sands,

Decked with flags and streamers gay,

In honor of her marriage day,

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, Round her like a veil descending,

Ready to be

The bride of the gray,

old sea.

Then the Master,

With a gesture of command,

Waved his hand;

And at the word,

Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,

The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.

And see! she stirs !

She starts, she moves,-she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel,

And, spurning with her foot the ground,
With one exulting, joyous bound,
She leaps into the ocean's arms!

And lo! from the assembled crowd
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,

"Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray,
Take her to thy protecting arms,

With all her youth and all her charms!"

How beautiful she is! how fair
She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress

Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!

Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
The moistened eye, the trembling lip,

Are not the signs of doubt or fear.