Musical notes from harps of gold, Its shafts have fallen like rain in showers; This is a practical world of ours; In this practical world of ours. This is a very old world of ours,- This is a fine old world of ours; Its church-bells ring in ten thousand towers. And Love would make it a heaven below,This brave and dear old world of ours. THE FOUR KNIGHTS.-ROBERT C. V. MEYERS. Written Expressly for this Collection. Out of Flanders did we ride, Max, Karl, Malcolm, and I, The tangle in the brake and dell A little bird woke up to tell What the dawn wandered through. A dozen black trees before us launched, Peter, we called the one crooked-branched, And so we laughed, though we looked to our spears, And so we jabbered and spurred and laughed, As the sun came up, a red mouth that quaffed As the day awoke and glittered and ran In silver needles of light Which sewed last night's stars down to earth, where man Called them daisies and lilies white. Out of Flanders, on we crept, Our faces grown wan as the spray; We laughed no more when a great gull swept Like a thought through the air and away; For we were nearing the sea, the sea; Max and Karl, Malcolm and I, We loved her, and her alone; I hated the three who loved my lady, They hated me, every one. Aye, we hated, and aye, we were there, The elements stronger than noneFire and water and earth and air, Which was the greater one? Hist! What was that plunge at my side, at my back, That rattle and swift sun-glance? Max and Karl were at bay, alack! Each poised his glistening lance, “Ye lie The lady is mine, and so will I die For my right, for my right, know ye!" We fought and we lunged, and the gull flew near And fluttered and blurred the sun; We fought with our love, with our hope, with our fear, As though we should never have done. We fought and we lunged till, spent and dree, Malcolm and I were left, Malcolm and I, and all bloody Each spear was to the heft. Malcolm and I! And dared there be Just two where there had been four? I loved, and I loved the fair lady, I could no less nor more. Quoth Malcolm, "And ye give up the dame, I'll spare ye both a body and name, And I, "The world is not wide at all, The lady I love I must love till I fall Through the limitless world ghosts claim! We fought and we lunged, and the gull flew near, And fluttered and blurred the sun; We fought with our love, with our hope, with our fear, We fought and we lunged, and his steed was down, And then-why then I was all alone, And the gull shrieked through the air. I spurred at the flank of my reeking beast, The trees were gibing ghosts from a feast I spurred at the flank of my beast,-"Mine, mine In diamonds and rubies she shall shine, "She shall crown me her hero knight, This day's hot crime that wounds God's sight,The crime that was for her sake. "She shall love me, and love me I know, And the three knights I loved so well Shall not whisper, 'Thou,' and 'Thou,' and 'Thou,' And point to the gate of hell. "For love is worth the all of life, And death is conquered in love, "But lady, my lady, my own lady, Rulest my thought and my will." I spurred at the flank of my beast,-fast! fast! And down at my feet at last-at last, And the white gull reeled above my head "Sailor-men, sailor-men, stop me not now, A man in love is naught, I trow- The sailor-men they bore a load, And the priest strode with bare head, And they called to me as on they strode, "Make way, make way for the dead!" "What are the dead to me, sailor-men?— Make way for the living! I go, sailor-men, The priest, he lifted the pall of white, HANNIBAL ON THE ALPS.-E. M. SWAN. The snow-capped summits of the Alps were darkened with the legions of Carthage; their almost inaccessible heights had been scaled, and the bulk of Hannibal's army now clung about their ragged peaks and icy crags; while far below, still lingering in the dangerous passes, toiled the beast of burden and the last remnant of the troops. The sun appearing in the orient, shot his earliest rays from amidst the crimson clouds that lingered about the horizon; his bright beams silvered the snowy brow of Mont Blanc, glanced with a dazzling beauty from Alpine glaciers, and fringed with prismatic hues the distant cliffs of Helvetia. A wild shout of joy arose from the weary throng as they beheld the lovely vales and luxuriant plains of Italia. The air still vibrated with the faint echoes of the dying sound, as a suppressed cry of "Hannibal” flashed along the lines, mingled with a murmur of applause, at sight of their beloved leader, which was gradually hushed into the deepest silence, as the Carthaginian chieftain, waving his gleaming sword from a lofty peak, thus addressed them: Why pause ye here? After all that you have endured, all the conquests you have won, do your hearts now grow faint in the very moment of victory? A few days since we paused at the foot of the Alps, in the deep valley behind you; those rocky barriers. 1 |