There is a period-it may be earlier or later, according to character-when we are conscious of passing out of childhood, and of entering upon the open arena of human life. Then our birthdays are wonderful epochs, and as we reach one after another we almost expect the whole world to stand still in admiration of our advance. This state of exalted feeling in a poetic nature has never perhaps been so finely depicted as by Mrs. Browning in "Aurora Leigh: Came a morn, I stood upon the brink of twenty years And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank I was glad that day. The June was in me, with its multitudes very wise! This beautiful picture induces us to exclaim with Lover, the humorous Irish poet :— O youth! happy youth! what a blessing! Beautiful and splendid as the summer morning are the ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. Higher, higher, will we climb Up the mount of glory, That our names may live through time Deeper, deeper, let us toil In the mines of knowledge; Onward, onward, may we press, Excellence true beauty. Minds are of celestial birth, Make we then a heaven of earth. JAMES MONTGOMERY. Well would it be if all the aspirations of youth tended to produce a character deserving similar praise to that contained in the neat and terse tribute by Cowper : TO MISS C, ON HER BIRTHDAY. How many, between East and West, Not so when Stella's natal morn : Or this by Milton : TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth That labour up the hill of heavenly truth; Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure, Thou, when the Bridegroom with His feastful friends Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night, Hast gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure. The prime epoch of life to the children of fortune is the " coming of age." The best of Ben Jonson's birthday odes is admirable in its moral counsel to the young heir on arriving at his majority: ODE TO SIR WILLIAM SIDNEY,* ON HIS Now that the hearth is crowned with smiling fire, Some ring, Some sing, And all do strive to advance The gladness higher; Wherefore should I Stand silent by, Who not the least Both love the cause and authors of the feast? Give me my cup, but from the Thespian well, This day says, then, the number of glad years Your vow Must now Strive all right ways it can, T'outstrip your peers: * Eldest son of Robert Sidney, Earl of Leicester, and nephew of Sir Philip Sidney. Since he doth lack Doth urge him to run wrong, or to stand still. Nor can a little of the common store So good, And great, must seek for new, And study more; Nor weary rest On what's deceased; For they that swell With dust of ancestors in graves do dwell. "Twill be exacted of you whose son, Will then Say you have followed far, When well begun : Which must be now, They teach you how. And he that stays To live unto to-morrow hath lost two days. So may you live in honour as in name, So may Be more and long desired; And with the flame Of love be bright As with the light Of bonfires! then The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men. |