Into the fifth himself he flings,

And conscious Law is King of kings.
Pleaseth him, the Eternal Child,

To play his sweet will, glad and wild;
As the bee through the garden ranges,
From world to world the godhead changes;
As the sheep go feeding in the waste,
From form to form he maketh haste;
This vault which glows immense with light
Is the inn where he lodges for a night.

What recks such Traveller if the bowers
Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers

A bunch of fragrant lilies be,

Or the stars of eternity?

Alike to him the better, the worse,

The glowing angel, the outcast corse.
Thou metest him by centuries,

And lo! he passes like the breeze;
Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy,

He hides in pure transparency;

Thou askest in fountains and in fires,
He is the essence that inquires.

He is the axis of the star;

He is the sparkle of the spar;

He is the heart of every creature:

He is the meaning of each feature;

And his mind is the sky,

Than all it holds more deep, more high.'

MONADNOC.

THOUSAND minstrels woke within me,

'Our music's in the hills;'

Gayest pictures rose to win me,

Leopard-colored rills.

' Up! —If thou knew'st who calls

To twilight parks of beech and pine,
High over the river intervals,

Above the ploughman's highest line,

Over the owner's farthest walls!

Up! where the airy citadel

O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell!

Let not unto the stones the Day

Her lily and rose, her sea and land display.

Read the celestial sign!

Lo! the south answers to the north;

Bookworm, break this sloth urbane;

A greater spirit bids thee forth

Than the gray dreams which thee detain.

Mark how the climbing Oreads

Beckon thee to their arcades!

Youth, for a moment free as they,
Teach thy feet to feel the ground,
Ere yet arrives the wintry day
When Time thy feet has bound.
Take the bounty of thy birth,
Taste the lordship of the earth.'

I heard, and I obeyed, -
Assured that he who made the claim,
Well known, but loving not a name,
Was not to be gainsaid.

Ere yet the summoning voice was still,

I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill.

From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed,

Like ample banner flung abroad

To all the dwellers in the plains

Round about, a hundred miles,

With salutation to the sea, and to the border

ing isles.

In his own loom's garment dressed,

By his proper bounty blessed,

Fast abides this constant giver,

Pouring many a cheerful river;
To far eyes, an aerial isle

Unploughed, which finer spirits pile,
Which morn and crimson evening paint
For bard, for lover, and for saint;

The people's pride, the country's core,
Inspirer, prophet evermore;

Pillar which God aloft had set

So that men might it not forget;
It should be their life's ornament,
And mix itself with each event;
This their calendar and dial,
Weatherglass and chemic phial,
Garden of berries, perch of birds,

Pasture of pool-haunting herds,