still, as if the sight had withered him. She threw her arms about his neck-he heeded not! She called him "Father"-but he answered not!

She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth? There was no anger in that bloodshot eye. Had sickness seized him? She unclasped his helm, and laid her white hand gently on his brow. The touch aroused him. He raised up his hands, and spoke the name of God in agony! She knew that he was stricken then, and rushed again into his arms, and with a flood of tears she could not stay, she sobbed a prayer that he would tell her of his wretchedness. He told her...and a momentary flush shot o'er her countenance and then, the soul of Jephthah's daughter wakened, and she stood calmly and nobly up, and said, ""Tis well; and I will die.".. And when the sun had set, then she was dead-but not by violence.

19.-AMBITION.-Willis.

What is Ambition? 'Tis a glorious cheat!
It seeks the chamber of the gifted boy,
And lifts his humble window, and comes in.
The narrow walls expand, and spread away
Into a kingly palace; and the roof
Lifts to the sky; and unseen fingers work
The ceiling with rich blazonry, and write
His name in burning letters over all.
And ever as he shuts his wildered eyes,
The Phantom comes! and lays upon his lips
A spell that murders sleep-and in his ear
Whispers a deathless word-and on his brain
Breathes a fierce thirst no waters will allay.
-He is its slave henceforth. His days are spent
In chaining down his heart, and watching where
To rise by human weaknesses. His nights
Bring him no rest in all their blessèd hours;
His kindred are forgotten or estranged;
Unhealthful fires burn constant in his eye;
His lip grows restless, and its smile is curled
Half into scorn; till the bright, fiery Boy,-
That 'twas a daily blessing but to see,
His spirit was so bird-like and so pure,—
Is frozen, in the very flush of youth,
Into a cold, care-fretted, heartless Man.

Praise when the ear has grown too dull to hear;
Gold—when the senses it should please ai e dead;
Wreaths-when the hair they cover has gr wn gray;
Fame-when the heart it should have thrilled is numb.
All things but love, when love is all we want:
-And close behind comes Death! and, ere we know
That even these unavailing gifts are ours,

He sends us, stripped and naked, to the grave.

20.-THE SEASON'S DIFFERENCE.-Alex. Smith.

The lark is singing in the blinding sky;

Hedges are white with May. The bridegroom Sea
Is toying with the Shore, his wedded bride;
And, in the fulness of his marriage joy,
He decorates her tawny brow with shells—
Retires a space to see how fair she looks-
Then, proud, runs up to kiss her! All is fair-
All glad, from grass to sun! . . . Yet more I love
Than this, the shrinking day, that sometimes comes
In Winter's front; so fair 'mong its dark peers
It seems a straggler from the files of June,
Which in its wanderings had lost its wits,
And half its beauty; and, when it return'd,
Finding its old companions gone away,

It join'd November's troop, then marching past;
And so the frail thing comes, and greets the world
With a thin crazy smile, then bursts in tears,-
And all the while it holds within its hand
A few half-wither'd flowers. I love and pity it!

21.-A WINTER NIGHT.-Shelley.

How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
Were discord to the speaking quietude

That wraps this moveless scene.

Heaven's ebon vault,

Studded with stars unutterably bright,

Seems like a canopy which Love has spread

To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,

Robed in a garment of untrodden snow;

Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend,

So stainless, that their white and glittering spires
Tinge not the moon's pure beam; yon castled steep,
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it

A metaphor of peace ;—all form a scene
Where musing Solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness;
Where Silence, undisturb'd, might watch alone-
So cold, so bright, so still.

22.--FABLE IS LOVE'S WORLD.- Coleridge (from Schiller).

Oh, never rudely will I blame this faith in the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely the human being's pride that peoples space with life and mystical predominance; since, likewise, for the stricken heart of Love, this visible nature and this common world are all too narrow; yea, a deeper import lurks in the legend told my infant years, than lies upon that truth we live to learn. For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, and spirits; and delightedly believes divinities, being himself divine. The intelligible forms of ancient poets, the fair humanities of old religion, the power, the beauty, and the majesty, that had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanish'd. They live no longer in the faith of reason! But still the heart doth need a language,—still doth the old instinct bring back the old names; and to yon starry world they now are gone, spirits or gods, that used to share this earth with man as with their friend; and, to the lover, yonder they move, from yonder visible sky shoot influence down: and even at this day 'tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, and Venus who brings everything that's fair!

23-THANKSGIVING FOR FLOWERS.-Mrs. Hemans.

O Father! Lord! the All-beneficent! I bless Thy name, that Thou hast mantled the green earth with flowers, linking our hearts to Nature! By the love of their wild blossoms, our young footsteps first into her deep recesses are beguiled, her minster cells-dark glen and forest bower, where, thrilling with its earliest sense of Thee, amidst the low, religious whisperings, the shivery leaf sounds of the solitude, the spirit wakes to worship, and is made Thy living temple. By the breath of flowers, Thou callest us from city throngs and cares, back to the woods, the birds,

S

the mountain-streams, that sing of Thee! back to free childhood's heart, fresh with the dews of tenderness! Thou bidd'st the lilies of the field with placid smile reprove man's feverish strivings, and infuse through his worn soul a more unworldly life, with their soft, holy breath. Thou hast not left his purer nature, with its fine desires, uncared-for in this universe of Thine! The glowing rose attests it, the belov'd of poet-hearts; touch'd by their fervent dreams with spiritual light, and made a source of heavenascending thoughts. E'en to faint age Thou lend'st the vernal bliss: the old man's eye falls on the kindling blossoms, and his soul remembers youth and love, and hopefully turns to Thee, who call'st earth's buried germs from dust to splendour;-as the mortal seed, shall, at Thy summons, from the grave spring up to put on glory, to be girt with power, and filled with Immortality. Receive thanks, blessings, love, for these, Thy lavish boons, and, most of all, their heavenward influences, O Thou that gav'st us flowers!

24.-EARTHLY GLORIES EVANESCENT.-Wordsworth.

So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies, all that this world is proud of. From their spheres the stars of human glory are cast down; perish the roses and the flowers of kings, princes, and emperors; and the crowns and palms of all the mighty, withered and consumed! Nor is power given to lowliest innocence long to protect her own. The man himself departs; and soon is spent the line of those who, in the bodily image-in the mind, in heart or soul, in station or pursuit-did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks, fraternities and orders-heaping high new wealth upon the burthen of the old, and placing trust in privilege confirm'd and re-confirm❜d -are scoff'd at with a smile of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand of Desolation aim'd: to slow decline those yield, and these to sudden overthrow their virtue, service, happiness, and state expire; and Nature's pleasant robe of green-Humanity's appointed shroud-enwraps their monuments and their memory.

25.-DARKNESS.-Byron.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless; and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air:

Morn came, and went—and came, and brought no day;

And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation: and all hearts

Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light!

And they did live by watchfires; and the thrones,
The palaces of crownèd kings, the huts,
The habitations of all things that dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed;
And men were gathered round their blazing homes,
To look once more into each other's face.
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain torch!
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire; but hour by hour
They fell and faded, and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash-and all was black!

The brows of men, by the despairing light,
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them! some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed

Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky-
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,

And gnashed their teeth, and howled; the wild birds shricked,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,

And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled,
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless;-they were slain for food:
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom. No love was left;
All earth was but one thought-and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious. And the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails:-men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured;

Even dogs assailed their masters,—all save one,

And he was faithful to a corse, and kept