The shutters shook, and on the sloping roof
Plashed heavily large single drops of rain,
And all was still again. Ben Khorat sat

By the dim lamp, and, while his scholar slept,
Pored on the Chaldee wisdom. At his feet,
Stretched on a pallet, lay the Arab boy,
Muttering fast in his unquiet sleep,

And working his dark fingers in his palms
Convulsively. His sallow lips were pale,

And, as they moved, his teeth showed ghastly through,

White as a charnel bone, and closely drawn

Upon his sunken eyes, as if to press

Some frightful image from the bloodshot balls.
His lids a moment quivered, and again
Relaxed, half open, in a calmer sleep.

Ben Khorat gazed upon the dropping sands
Of the departing hour. The last white grain
Fell through, and with the tremulous hand of age
The old astrologer reversed the glass;

And, as the voiceless monitor went on,

Wasting and wasting with the precious hour,

He looked upon it with a moving lip,

And, starting, turned his gaze upon the heavens.
Cursing the clouds impatiently.

"'Tis time!"

Muttered the dying scholar, and he dashed
The tangled hair from his black eyes away,
And, seizing on Ben Khorat's mantle-folds,
He struggled to his feet, and falling prone
Upon the window-ledge, gazed steadfastly
Into the East:-

"There is a cloud between

She sits this instant on the mountain's brow,
And that dusk veil hides all her glory now-
Yet floats she as serene

Into the heavens !- -Oh, God! that even so
I could o'ermount my spirit-cloud, and go!

The cloud begins to drift!

Aha! Fling open! 'tis the star-the sky!
Touch me, immortal mother! and I fly!

Wider! thou cloudy rift!

Let through!-such glory should have radiant room! Let through!-a star-child on its light goes home!

Speak to me, brethren bright!

Ye who are floating in these living beams!
Ye who have come to me in starry dreams!
Ye who have winged the light

Of our bright mother with its thoughts of flame— -(I knew it passed through spirits as it came)

Tell me what power have ye?

What are the heights ye reach upon your wings?
What know ye of the myriad wondrous things
I perish but to see?

Are ye thought-rapid ?-Can ye fly as far-
As instant as a thought, from star to star?

Where has the Pleiad gone?

Where have all missing stars* found light and home?

* 'Missing stars' are often spoken of in the old books of astronomy. Hipparchus mentions one that appeared and vanished very suddenly; and in the beginning of the sixteenth century Kepler discovered a new star near the heel of the right foot of Serpentarius. so bright and sparkling that it exceeded any thing he had ever seen before." He "took notice that it was every moment changing into some of the colors of the rainbow,

Who bids the Stella Mira* go and come?
Why sits the Pole-star lone?

And why, like banded sisters, through the air
Go in bright troops the constellations fair?

Ben Khorat! dost thou mark?

The star! the star! By heavens, the cloud drifts

o'er !

Gone-and I live! nay-will my heart beat more? Look! master! 'tis all dark!

Not a clear speck in heaven!-my eye-balls smother! Break through the clouds once more! oh, starry mother!

I will lie down! Yet, stay,

The rain beats out the odour from the gums,
And strangely soft to-night the spice-wind comes !
I am a child alway

except when it was near the horizon, when it was generally white." It disappeared the following year, and has not been seen since.

* A wonderful star in the neck of the Whale, discovered by Fabricius in the fifteenth century. It appears and disappears seven times in six years, and continues in the greatest lustre for fifteen days together.

When it is on my forehead! Abra sweet!
Would I were in the desert at thy feet!

My barb! my glorious steed!
Methinks my soul would mount upon its track
More fleetly, could I die upon thy back!
How would thy thrilling speed

Quicken my pulse !—Oh, Allah! I get wild!
Would that I were once more a desert-child!

Nay-nay-I had forgot!

My mother! my star mother!--Ha! my breath Stifles! -more air!. -Ben Khorat! this is-death! Touch me!- -I feel you not!

Dying!-Farewell! good master!-room! more room! Abra! I loved thee! star-bright star! I

How idly of the human heart we speak,

-come!"

Giving it gods of clay! How worse than vain
Is the school homily, that Eden's fruit
Cannot be plucked too freely from "the tree
Of good and evil." Wisdom sits alone,

Topmost in heaven ;-she is its light-its God!