III.

THE OPENING OF THE TOMB OF CHARLEMAGNE.

AMID the cloistered gloom of Aachen's aisle
Stood Otho, Germany's imperial lord,
Regarding, with a melancholy smile,
A simple stone, where, fitly to record
A world of action by a single word,

Was graven "Carlo-Magno." Regal style

Was needed none; that name such thoughts restored As sadden, yet make nobler, men the while. They rolled the marble back. With sudden gasp, A moment o'er the vault the Kaiser bent, Where still a mortal monarch seemed to reign. Crowned on his throne, a sceptre in his grasp, Perfect in each gigantic lineament,

Otho looked face to face on Charlemagne.

IV.

DIOCLETIAN AT SALONA.

TAKE back these vain insignia of command,
Crown, truncheon, golden eagle, bawbles all,
And robe of Tyrian dye, to me a pall;
And be forever alien to my hand,

Though laurel-wreathed, War's desolating brand.
I would have friends, not courtiers, in my hall;
Wise books, learn'd converse, beauty free from thrall,
And leisure for good deeds, thoughtfully planned.
Farewell, thou garish World! thou Italy,

False widow of departed Liberty!

I scorn thy base caresses. Welcome the roll, Between us, of mine own bright Adrian sea!

Welcome these wilds, from whose bold heights my soul

Looks down on your degenerate Capitol!

V.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

THE lioness that stalks the forest bound
More awful in her presence and her port
Looked not than she high in her cloudy court
The rock-throned osprey, glancing sternly round
Through sun-lit air unshaken by a sound,

From low desires and the base world's resort
Seemed elevated less: the dolphin's sport

O'er foam-flecked waves and sapphire depths profound

Showed not a pageant to the eye of morn

More bright. Her thoughts were in the purple born;
Her eye was empery; she gave the nod,

And all obeyed; all earthly powers with scorn
She noted; yea, the fane itself she trod

As though she were the sister of a god!

DAVID LESTER RICHARDSON.

I.

TO MY TWIN BOYS.

YE seem not, sweet ones, formed for human care;
Your dreams are tinged by heaven; your glad eyes

meet

A charm in every scene; for all things greet
The dawn of life with hues divinely fair.
How brightly yet your laughing features wear
The bloom of early joy! Your bosoms beat
With no bewildering fear; your cup is sweet;
The manna of delight is melting there.
Twin buds of life and love! my hope and pride!
Fair priceless jewels of a father's heart!

Stars of my home! No saddening shadows hide
Your beauty now. Your stainless years depart

Like glittering streams that softly murmur by,
Or white-winged birds that pierce the sunny sky.

'Literary Leaves; or, Prose and Verse, by D. L. Richardson. Calcutta, 1836."

II.

FINE WEATHER AT SEA.

THE plain of ocean 'neath the crystal air
Its azure bound extends; the circle wide
Is sharply clear; contrasted hues divide
The sky and water. Clouds, like hills that wear
The winter's snow-wrought mantle, brightly fair,

Rest on the main's blue marge. As shadows glide
O'er dew-decked fields, the calm ship seems to slide
O'er glassy paths that catch the noontide glare,
As if bestrewn with diamonds. Quickly play
The small crisp waves, that musically break
Their shining peaks. And now, if aught can make
Celestial spirits wing their downward way,

Methinks they glitter in the proud sun's wake,

And breathe a glorious beauty on the day.