Awake, O souls of harmony, and ye

That greet the dayspring with your jubilee
Of lute and harp! Awake, awake, and bring
Your well-tuned cymbals, and go forth with glee,
Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

Far o'er the hills have not the watchful sheep
Espied their shepherd, and with eager flight
Gone forth to meet him on the craggy steep;
Hasting the while his summoning notes invite
Where riper grasses and green herbs abound
But ye! your shepherd calls, thrice happy sound!
He comes, he comes, your shepherd king, 'tis he!
Oh, quit these close-cropped meads, and gladly flee
To him who makes once more new growths upspring;
Oh, quit your ancient glebes,—oh, joyfully
Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

Too long ye till exhausted lands and reap
Thin crops that ne'er your weary toil requite :
Too long your laggard oxen labouring creep
Up the wide furrows, and full idly smite
The weed-encircled ridge. the rocky mound :
Will ye not quit these fields now barren found?
Ah! ye are old, yet not too old to be

Brave travellers o'er bald custom's boundary ;—
Then each, let each his robe around him fling,
And with his little one, his child, set free,
Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

See, on the strand, watching the waves that sweep
Their creamy ripples up the sandy bight,
Your child waits, leaping as the wavelets leap,
The faery infant of the infinite!

Ah! happy child, with what new wonders crowned
He'll turn to thee to fathom and expound;

Asking, enquiring, looking unto thee
To solve the universe, its destiny ;-
And still unto thy vestment's hem will cling,
Asking, enquiring,—whispering, may not we
Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

Oh, linger not, no longer vainly weep

O'er vanished hopes, but with new strength unite; Oh, linger not! But let your glad eyes keep Watch on this guiding star that beams so bright Around your brows be this phylacter bound,— Let Truth be king and let his praise resound! Oh, linger not! Let earth, and sky, and sea, To sound his praises let all hearts agree; Still loud, and louder, let your pæans ring, Go forth, go forth, in glad exultancy Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

Envoy.

Thou art the king, O Truth! we bend the knee To thee; we own thy wondrous sovranty; And still thy praises in our songs we'll sing, Bidding all people with blithe minstrelsy Go forth, and welcome the eternal king.

SAMUEL WADDINGTON.

THE GLORY OF THE YEAR.

When Spring came softly breathing o'er the land, With warmer sunshine and sweet April shower; Bidding the silken willow leaves expand;

Calling to hill and meadow, bee and flower, Bright with new life and beauty; on light wing Bringing the birds again to love and sing;

And waking in the heart its joy amain,
With old fond hopes and memories in its train;
Childishly glad mid ́universal cheer,

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How oft we sang the half-forgotten strain :

'Now we behold the glory of the year!"'

When Summer by her fervid breezes fanned,
With footstep free and proud in restless power,
With plump, round cheek to ruddy beauty tanned,
In blooming loveliness came to her bower,
Her golden tresses loosely wandering
In wild luxuriance,-then pretty Spring

Seemed but a playful sister, pettish, vain.

How well we loved the passionate Summer's reign! How day by day our empress grew more dear!

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Beyond," we asked, "what fairer can remain ? Now we behold the glory of the year!"

But when grave Autumn's ever bounteous hand
Poured round our feet the riches of her dower :
The pulpy fruit, the nut's sweet ripened gland,

The largess free to gleaner and to plower,
And all the Summer sought in vain to bring;
When stood the hills in glorious garmenting;
Shadowed by low-hung skies of sober grain,
No more could our ennobled thoughts sustain
Regretful memory of Summer sere,-

"What of the past!" we cried in quick disdain ; "Now we behold the glory of the year!

Then before mighty Winter, stern and grand,
We saw defenceless Autumn shivering, cower,
Changed to Duessa by his potent wand,

Shorn of her loveliness, in Fortune's lower
Naked for Winter's scourge to smite and sting.
How godlike came the world's new sceptered King !

He fettered fast her torrents with his chain, Bound with his manacles the moaning main, Yea, wrought his will with all things far and near. At last,' we said, "what more can Time attain? Now we behold the glory of the year!"

Neglected Spring, despised, insulted, banned!
Poor weakling! came again one April hour,
The tyrant struck his tent at her command;
She laughed,-down tumbling fell his frosty tower;
At one light finger-touch his captives fling
Their shackles off and make the valleys ring
With praises to the conqueror of pain.

All the lost lives that languishing have lain,
Leaves, grasses, buds, and birds again appear,
O now!" we cried again and yet again,
"Now we behold the glory of the year!"

Prince, while Spring sports with sunbeam, flower, and rain,

While wanton Summer riots on the plain,

'Neath Autumn's calm, or Winter's frown severe, Change only clearer chants the old refrain,

"Now we behold the glory of the year!"'

ERNEST WHITNEY.

The kyrielle, Pantoum, and Rondeau

Redoublé.