When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of Evangeline. Part i. 1.

exquisite music.

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the

angels.

Part i. 3.

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the

consoler,

Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it for

ever.

Part ii. 5.

God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.1 The Courtship of Miles Standish. iv.

Into a world unknown, -the corner-stone of a nation! 2

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,

That of our vices we can frame

A ladder, if we will but tread

Beneath our feet each deed of shame.

Ibid.

The Ladder of St. Augustine.

The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,

But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.

Sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,

With all the hopes of future years,

Ibid.

Is hanging breathless on thy fate! The Building of the Ship.

1 God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.

Boston, April 29, 1669.

2 Plymouth Rock.

William Stoughton, Election Sermon at

8 Compare Tennyson. Page 551.

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee, -are all with thee!

The Building of the Ship.

The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.

A banner with the strange device.

The Fire of Drift -wood.

There is no flock, however watched and tended,

But one dead lamb is there;

But has one vacant chair.

Excelsior.

There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

Resignation.

The air is full of farewells to the dying,

And mournings for the dead.

Ibid.

There is no Death! What seems so is transition;

This life of mortal breath

Is but a suburb of the life elysian,

Ibid.

In the elder days of Art,

Whose portal we call Death.

Builders wrought with greatest care

Each minute and unseen part;

For the gods see everywhere.

Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,

Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate,

He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

From Goethe's Wilhelm Meister,1

1 Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen ass, Wer nicht die kummervollen Nächte Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,

The Builders.

Motto, Hyperion, Book i.

Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte.

Wilhelm Meister, Book ii. Ch. 13.

Something the heart must have to cherish,
Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn;
Something with passion clasp or perish,
And in itself to ashes burn.

From Goethe's Wilhelm Meister.

Motto, Hyperion, Book ii.

Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with, from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number. Hyperion. Book iv. Ch. 8.

"Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee."1

O suffering, sad humanity!

O ye afflicted ones, who lie
Steeped to the lips in misery,
Longing, and yet afraid to die,
Patient, though sorely tried!

He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.2

Ibid.

The Dutch Picture.

1 From To-morrow, Nathaniel Cotton. Compare Genesis xxxiii. 2 Sir Francis Drake entered the harbour of Cadiz, April 19th, 1587, and destroyed shipping to the amount of ten thousand tons lading. To use his own expressive phrase, he had singed the Spanish king's beard. — Knight's Pictorial History of England, Vol. iii. p. 215.

WILSON.-WHITTIER. - DUFFERIN.

541

MRS. C. B. WILSON.

-1846.

sea,

What fairy-like music steals over the
Entrancing our senses with charmed melody?

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Give lettered pomp to teeth of time,
So Bonny Doon but tarry;

Blot out the epic's stately rhyme,

Maud Muller.

But spare his Highland Mary.

Lines on Burns.

LADY DUFFERIN. 1807-1867.

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,

Where we sat side by side.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends; But oh! they love the better still

The few our Father sends.

Ibid.

CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. 1806-1850.

Sparkling and bright in liquid light

Does the wine our goblets gleam in;

With hue as red as the rosy bed

Which a bee would choose to dream in.

Sparkling and Bright.

FREDERICK W. THOMAS. 1808

'T is said that absence conquers love; But oh! believe it not.

I've tried, alas! its power to prove,

But thou art not forgot.

Absence conquers Love.

FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. 1811

A sacred burden is this life ye bear:
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly.

Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,

But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.

Lines addressed to the Young Gentlemen leaving the Lenox
Academy, Mass.

Better trust all, and be deceived,

And weep that trust and that deceiving,

Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,

Had blessed one's life with true believing.

Faith.