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Sadly I torn, and look before, where yet The flood must pass, and 1 behold a mist Where swarm dissolving forms, the brood of Hope, Divinely fair, that rest on banks of flowers Or wander among rainbows, fading soon And reappearing, haply giving place To shapes of grisly aspect, such as Fear Molds from the idle air; where serpents lift The head to strike, and skeletons stretch form The bony arm in menace. Further on A belt of darkness seems to bar the way, Long, low, and distant, where the Life that Is Touches the Life to Come. The Flood of Years Rolls toward it, near and nearer. It must pass That dismal barrier. What is there beyond? Hear what the wise and good have said.
That belt of darkness still the years roll on
The lives of infants and ingenuous youths,
Sages and saintly women who have made
Their households happy — all are raised and borne
By that great current in its onward sweep.
Wandering and rippling with caressing waves
Around green islands, fragrant with the breath
Of flowers that never wither. So they pass,
From stage to stage, along the shining course
Of that fair river broadening like a sea.
As its smooth eddies curl along their way,
They bring old friends together; hands are clasped
In joy unspeakable; the mother's arms
Again are folded round the child she loved
And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now,
Or but remembered to make sweet the hour
That overpays them; wounded hearts that bled
Or broke are healed forever. In the room
Of this grief-shadowed Present there shall be
A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw
The heart, and never shall a tender tie
Be broken — in whose reign the eternal Change
That waits on growth and action shall proceed
With everlasting Concord hand in hand.
William Ctjllen Bryant.
THE OLD WATER-WHEEL.
'lies beside the river, where its marge
Once, slow revolving by the industrious mill,
Sparkling around its orbed motion, flew.
Now, dancing light and sounding motion cease,
Through its black bars the unbroken moonlight flows.
And mouldering lichens creep, aud mosses gray
So, by the sleep of many a human heart
Ah! little can they trace the hidden truth.
|V| THINK about the dead by day, lis I dream of them at night: A They seem to staud beside my chair, 1 Clad in the clothes they used to wear, 'And by my bed in white.
The common-places of their lives,
The lightest words they said,
And make me wish them back again.
I would be kinder to them now.
Were they alive once more;
Upon the silent shore.
Richard Henry Stoddard.
And flung a warm and sunny flush
0, many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;
And sights of home with sighs disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming tree
Alive through all its leaves,
The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage-door.
And the swallow's song in the eaves.
His arms enclosed a blooming boy,
Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy
To the dangers his father had passed;
And his wife.—-by turns she wept and smiled,
As she looked on the father of her child,
Returned to her heart at last.
He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll.
And the rush of waters is in his soul.
Astounded, the reeling deck he paces,
Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces;
The whole ship's crew are there!
Wailings around and overhead.
Brave spirits stupefied or dead.
And madness and despair.
John Wilson (Christopher North).
THE GLOVE AND THE LIOXS.
flNG Francis was a hearty king, and loved a De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous, lively
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which alway
The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in She thought, "The count, my lover, is brave as brave
And 'mougst them sat the Count de Lorge, with He surely would do wondrous things to show his love
And truly't was a gallant thing to see that crowning King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is
Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glorv will
Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing Sne dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked
at him and smiled;
They bit. they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions
With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on Tne leaP TM quick, return was quick, he has regained
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the
Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;
The bloody foam above the bars came whisking "B>' Heaven!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he
through the air;
rose from where he sat:
Said Francis, then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better love," quoth ho, "but vanity, sets love a task like
here than there."
THE BRIDES OF ENDERBY;
HE old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
"Play uppe, play uppe, O, Boston bells!
Play uppe 'The Brides of Enderby.'"
Men say it was a stolon tyde—
But in myne ears doth still abide
And there was naught of strange beside
The flight of mows and peewits pied
I sat and spun within my doore,
The level sun, like ruddy ore,
And dark against day's golden death
She moved when? Lindis wandereth,
My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth.
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!*' calling
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!"'calling,
If it be long, ay, long ago.
When I begin to think how long,
Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong;
OR, THE HIGH TIDE. (1571.)
Alle fresh the level pasture lay,
Save where full fyve good miles away
And lo! the groat bell farre and wide
Was heard in all the country side
That Saturday at eventide.
The swanherds where there sedges are
The shepherde lads I heard afarre,
Till floating o'er the grassy sea
Canio downe that kindly message free,
The "Brides of Mavis Enderby."
Thou some looked uppe into the sky,
To whore the goodly vessels lie,
They sayde, "And why should this thing be?
AVhat danger lowers by land or sea?
They ring the tune of Enderby!
"For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Of pyratc galleys warping down;
They have not spared to wake the towne;
I looked without, and lo! my Sonne
Ho raised a shout as ho drew on,
(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Thau my Sonne's wife Elizabeth.)
"The old sea wall (ho cried) is downe.
And boats adrift in youder towne
He shook as one that looks on death:
"God save you mother!" strait he saith,
'■Where is my wife, Elizabeth?"
"Good sonne, whore Lindis winds away,
And ere yon bolls beganne to play
He looked across the grassy lea.
To right, to left, "Ho Enderby!"
They rang "The Brides of Enderby!"