Puslapio vaizdai
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Thou and the earth, twin-sisters as they say,
In the old prime were fashioned in one day;
And therefore thou delightest evermore
With her to lie and play

The summer hours away,

Curling thy loving ripples up her quiet shore.

She is a married matron long ago,

With nations at her side; her milk doth flow
Each year but thee no husband dares to tame;
Thy wild will is thine own,

Thy sole and virgin throne

Thy mood is ever changing-thy resolve the same.

Sunlight and moonlight minister to thee;-
O'er the broad circle of the shoreless sea

Heaven's two great lights for ever set and rise;
While the round vault above,

In vast and silent love,

Is gazing down upon thee with his hundred eyes.

All night thou utterest forth thy solemn moan,
Counting the weary minutes all alone;
Then in the morning thou dost calmly lie,
Deep-blue, ere yet the sun

His day-work hath begun,

Under the opening windows of the golden sky.

The Spirit of the mountain looks on thee
Over an hundred hills; quaint shadows flee
Across thy marbled mirror; brooding lie
Storm mists of infant cloud,

With a sight-baffling shroud

Mantling the grey-blue islands in the western sky.

Sometimes thou liftest up thine hands on high
Into the tempest-cloud that blurs the sky,
Holding rough dalliance with the fitful blast,
Whose stiff breath, whistling shrill,

Pierces with deadly chill

The wet crew feebly clinging to the shattered mast.

Foam-white along the border of the shore
Thine onward-leaping billows plunge and roar;
While o'er the pebbly ridges slowly glide
Cloaked figures, dim and grey,
Through the thick mist of spray,

Watchers for some struck vessel in the boiling tide.

Daughter and darling of remotest eld

Time's childhood and Time's age thou hast beheld; His arm is feeble, and his eye is dim :

He tells old tales again—

He wearies of long pain:

Thou art as at the first: thou journeyedst not with him.

Alford.

THE CORAL INSECT.

TOIL on toil on! ye ephemeral train,

Who build in the tossing and treacherous main,
Toil on,-for the wisdom of man ye mock,

With your sand-based structures and domes of rock;
Your columns the fathomless fountains lave,

And your arches spring up to the crested wave;
Ye're a puny race, thus boldly to rear

A fabric so vast in a realm so drear.

Ye bind the deep with your secret zone,
The ocean is seal'd, and the surge a stone;
Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring,
Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king;
The turf looks green where the breakers roll'd;
O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold;
The sea snatch'd isle is the home of men,
And mountains exult where the wave hath been.

But why do you plant, 'neath the billows dark,
The wrecking reef for the gallant bark ?
There are snares enough on the tented field,
'Mid the blossom'd sweets that the valleys yield;
There are serpents to coil, ere the flowers are up;
There's a poison-drop in man's purest cup,
There are foes that watch for his cradle-breath,
And why need ye sow the floods with death?

Ye build,-ye build,—but ye enter not in,

Like the tribes whom the desert devour'd in their sin;
From the land of promise ye fade and die,
Ere its verdure gleams forth on your weary eye;
As the kings of the cloud-crown'd pyramid
Their noteless bones in oblivion hid;

Ye slumber unmark'd 'mid the desolate main,
While the wonder and pride of your works remain.
Sigourney.

LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

"LET us love one another, not long may we stay; In this bleak world of mourning some droop while 'tis

day,

Others fade in their noon, and few linger till eve ;—
Oh! there breaks not a heart but leaves some one to
grieve;

And the fondest, the purest, the truest that met,
Have still found the need to forgive and forget:

Then, oh! though the hopes that we nourished decay,
Let us love one another as long as we stay.

There are hearts, like the ivy, though all be decayed,
That it seemed to twine fondly in sunlight and shade;
No leaves droop in sadness, still gaily they spread,
Undimm'd 'midst the blighted, the lonely, and dead :
But the misletoe clings to the oak, not in part,
But with leaves closely round it-the root in its heart,
Exists but to twine it,-imbibe the same dew,
Or to fall with its lov'd oak, and perish there too.

Thus, let's love one another 'midst sorrows the worst,
Unaltered and fond, as we lov'd at the first;

Though the false wing of pleasure may change and forsake,

And the bright urn of wealth into particles break,

There are some sweet affections that wealth cannot buy,-
That cling but still closer when sorrow draws nigh,
And remain with us yet, tho' all else pass away;
Thus, let's love one another as long as we stay.

C. Swain.

DANISH MARGARET.

[This story is taken from Miss Strickland's "Queens of England." Through the custom of one of the ladies of the queen watching in the royal chamber every night, "Danish Margaret" conceived and executed her daring scheme for the rescue of her betrothed.]

WRAPT in midnight slumbers deep,
At rest lay the Scottish king;
And his bonnie bride she hath that sleep
That a true young heart will bring.

But sleep to Danish Margaret

Never a moment came :
Silently she watched beside

By the pale lamp's steady flame.

Silently she rose and went

With a quick uneven tread,

Until her tearful eyes she bent
Over the royal bed.

Even their breathing, soft and low,
And so happy their quiet rest,
That none had deemed on either brow
A weary crown had prest.

Then back turned Danish Margaret,
With a bright and thankful eye,

And lightly stept through chamber and hall,
Lightly and silently.

Boldly she came where the warders stood,

A strong barred door before;

Though to her cheek came the bright warm blood,
Her voice shook never the more.

Never the more, but fair and free,
She spake with an even tone,—

"Guards, bring ye the prisoner on with me,

To speak with the king alone.”

They opened the door, and they brought him there
Out at her bidding bold;

Oh! Wemyss of Logie, that guardian fair
Thou little dream'st to behold.

They followed her on through corridor damp, Through hall and through chamber too; While she passed before with the guiding lamp, The room of the king unto.

"Now keep ye your watch here bold and true,
Lest he should 'scape away,

Till I bring him again in charge to you
Before it be break of day."

Then took she the Chief of Logie's hand,
And hurried him through the door,

And left them to watch there, the warder band,
Truly to watch before.

Firmly stood they, the warder band,

And a lagging hour hath gone;

The door is still closed, and there they stand,
Silent and still each one.

Another hour-and another still;

More slowly they pass away;

A few more hours and then there will

[blocks in formation]

the bonnie day!

The bonnie day!—the bonnie day!
See o'er the mountain edge
A broad bright rim is rising up
Behind a cloudy ledge.

Higher it rises;-and once again
Is the glorious day-god born;

And over the hill and over the plain

Comes the break of an August morn.

Much then marvell'd the guards, that yet
Came not their prisoner out;

"May not the bird have escaped our net?"
Was the whisper that went about.

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