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Above, there gleamed the boundless sky;
Beneath, the boundless ocean sheen ; Between them danced the butterfly, The spirit-life of this vast scene,
Far out at sea.
The tiny soul then soared away,
Seeking the clouds on fragile wings,
Far out at sea.
Away he sped with shimmering glee!
Scarce seen—now lost-yet onward borne! Night comes !—with wind and rain—and he No more will dance before the Morn,
Far out at sea.
He dies unlike his mates, I ween;
Perhaps not sooner, or worse crossed ; And he hath felt, thought, known, and seen A larger life and hope—though lost
Far out at sea ! RICHARD HENRY HENGIST HORNE.
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves, and washed it away : Agayne, I wrote it with a second hand; But came the tyde, and made my paynes his prey. Vayne man, say'd she, that doest in vayne assay
A mortall thing so to immortalize ; For I my selve shall like to this decay,
And eke my name bee wiped out likewise.
To dy in dust, but thou shall live by fame :
Where, when as death shall all the world subdew,
THE POET'S DEATH.
FROM "THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL,” CANTO V.
Call it not vain :—they do not err,
Who say, that when the poet dies,
And celebrates his obsequies ;
Not that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn
Of those, who, else forgotten long,
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
THY SONGS AND MINE.
Sing thou my songs for me when I am dead !
Soul of my soul, some day thou wilt awake
To see the morning on the hilltops break, And the far summits flame with rosy red-But I shall wake not, though above my head
Armies should thunder; nor for Love's sweet
sake, Though he the tenderest pilgrimage should
make Where I am lying in my grassy bed. I shall be silent, with my song half sung ;
I shall be dumb, with half the story told;
I shall be mute, leaving the half unsaid. Take thou the harp ere it be yet unstrung
Wake thou the lyre ere yet its chords be
coldSing thou my songs, and thine, when I am
JULIA C. R. DORR.
THE SIIARING OF THE EARTH.
“Take the world," cried the God from his heaven
To men—" I proclaim you its heirs ; To divide it amongst you 't is given:
You have only to settle the shares." Each takes for himself as it pleases,
Old and young have alike their desire: The harvest the husbandman seizes; Through the wood and the chase sweeps the
The merchant his warehouse is locking;
The abbot is choosing his wine;
Every toll for the passage is mine!”
Comes the poet,- he came from afar;
Nothing left can the laggard discover,
Not an inch but its owners there are.
“ Woe is me! is there nothing remaining
For the son who best loves thee alone!” Thus to Jove went his voice in complaining,
As he fell at the Thunderer's throne.
* In the land of thy dreams if abiding,”
Quoth the god, “ Can'st thou murmur at me? Where wert thou when the earth was dividing ?”
“ I was,” said the poet, “ by thee !
“Mine eye by thy glory was captured,
Mine ear by thy music of bliss :
As to lose him his portion in this!"
“ Alas,” said the god, “ earth is given !
Field, forest, and market, and all! What say you to quarters in heaven? We 'll admit you whenever you call!” From the German of J. C. FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER.
Translation of LORD BULWER-LYTTON.
THE IMMORTALITY OF GENIUS.
ORPHEUS, 't is said, the Thracian lyre-strings sweep
ing, Stayed the swift stream and soothed the savage
brute; Cithæron's rocks, to Thebes spontaneous leaping,
Rose into walls before Amphion's lute.