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Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime- The fiery shaft ran down-down to a bed
The image of Eternity-the throne

On which lay prone a little wasted form
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

Of faded earth, from which the struggling soul
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Yet panted to be free.
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless,

It was a girl-
alone.

A little sickly girl lay on that bed

To whom God's sunbeam came. She saw the And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy

beam-
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be

But to her eye of faith 'twas not a beam-
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy 'Twas a bright golden stair with myriad steps,
I wantoned with thy breakers—they to me

All small-all suited to her tiny feet-
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea

And leading straight to Heaven.
Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear;

“I must go HomeFor I was as it were a child of thee,

Not a short holiday, my mother dear,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,

Like those I've had from school-froin school to
And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.

Home,

And then from Home to school; the Home so short, EVENING ON THE BANKS OF THE BRENTA.

And, oh, the school so long! but always Home;
The moon is up, and yet it is not night-

And it will be to-day-must be to-day."
Sunset divides the sky with her—a sea
Of glory streams along the alpine height

“My darling is at Home!” the mother sobbed, Of blue Friuli's mountains: heaven is free

As with a moistened feather she essayed
From clouds, but of all colours seems to be

To damp the parched lips, round which the dews
Melted to one vast Iris of the west,

Shook from the wings of death thronged cold and Where the day joins the past eternity;

clear. While on the other hand, meek Diana's crest But in the eyes through which that spirit looked Floats through the azure air-an island of the blest. A soft denial shone; and the small voice

Pleaded in whispers to that mother's heart,A single star is at her side, and reigns

“Oh! do not keep me here-let me go Home;
With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still I'm very tired of earth-I long for Home;
Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains I'm weak and ill, and only fit for Home-
Rolled o'er the peak of the far Rhætian hill,

And such a Home, sweet mother! there—'tis there/
As day and night contending were, until
Nature reclaimed her order: gently flows

She smiled within the sunbeam, and her hand,
The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil Like it, transparent seemed, as it was raised
The odorous purple of a new-born rose,

Pointing to Heaven. A heaven not far away-
Which streams upon her stream and glassed within But near; so near—that e'en her dying smile
it glows.

Seemed not to herald night, but the bright dawn

Of an unclouded and eternal day.
Filled with the face of heaven, which, from afar,
Comes down upon the waters; all its hues,

The mother felt, as kneeling by that bed
From the rich sunset to the rising star,

She tended every want, and on her breast
Their magical variety diffuse:

Pillowed the sufferer's head, that the frail shell,
And now they charge; a paler shadow strews

The young worn mould encircled by her arms, Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day

Was crumbling fast to dust—and that the wings Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues Of a freed angel would be heavenward spread With a new colour as it gasps away,

When earth's last gyves fell off, and the last sigh The last still loveliest, till—'tis gone—and all is gray. Followed the sunbeam, sent to light her Home.

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GOING HOME.

JOHN CRAWFORD WILSON.
" I must go Home to-day!”

A golden beam
Of dazzling sunlight streamed from heaven to earth;
Through clouds that seemed like polished silver

domes
Of temples angel-built, or fairy towers,
Spotless and white, with sparkling minarets,
Drifting like icebergs in a calm, blue sea,

They called her “Lily"-Lilian was her name-
But from her birth she seemed so waxen white-
So fairy slight, so gentle and so pure,
That to her father's min she ever brought
The image of that pale and fragile flower:
And so he called her “Lily.” 'Twas a term
In which endearment, tenderness, and hope
Were all wreathed up; the hope too often crossed
By jealous fears, when some untoward breath
Too roughly bent to earth the sickly flower,
Leaving it drooping on its yielding stem.

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And there she lay at last,—almost in Heaven- Your broad, kind breast, so full of love for meOf Time and of Eternity a part

'Twill rest me on my road—'tis half way Home! A dying, living link, uniting those Who live to die-and die to ever live!

And then he rose, and round her wasted form

His brawny arms—before whose mighty strength Her eyes were closed. Her mother thought she The massive anvil quivered, as his hands slept

Swung high the ponderous sledge—or in whose The sleep that wakes no more: but 'twas not so.

gripe A step was on the stair—the fading eyes

The fiery steed stood conquered and subdued-
Opened again on earth—the wasted cheeks

Closed, as the breath of heaven, or God's own love,
Dimpled once more, as round the lips a smile So lightly, softly, gently, hemmed they in
Played like the shadow of a silver cloud

The little dying child. Then there he sat,
Upon a sunlit stream. “ Mother! 'tis he-

Her face upon his breast, and on his knee 'Tis father's footstep—and so very kind—

Her tearless mother's head; for all her tears So thoughtful of his Lily, he has left

Were inly wept, dropping like molten lead His heavy boots below; he pauses now,

Upon her breaking heart.
Clings to the rail, and sobs. I hear it all!

Far in the west
He fears I am gone Home. Go, mother dear! Long waves of crimson clouds stretched o'er the
Tell him I could not go till he returned.

hills; I want to feel his kiss upon my lips;

And through those clouds, as in a sea of blood, And take it up to Heaven.”

The sun sank slowly down. Ere his last ray

Glanced upwards from the earth, the father felt
Another sob,

His Lily lift her head-celestial light
And then a choking whisper from without.

Beamed from her eyes, as for the last embrace · May I come in?" If she is gone, say 'No.' . She to her mother turned, and then to him: If not, say “Yes.' I'll tread so very light,

“They beckon me,” she said; “I come! I come!” I shall not wake her, wife. May I come in?”

Around his neck she twined her faded arms,

Rising obedient to her heavenly call; A faltering voice said, “Come!” 'Twas Lily's | Again he pressed her lips, bat in the kiss voice;

Her soul, enfranchised, bounded from its thrall; So he went in—a stalwart, lusty man

Its crumbling fetters drooped upon his heart-
A giant, with a tiny infant's heart,

The angel was at Hame!
Weeping big tears that would not be controlled.
Oh! how he loved that child-how she loved him!
Yet both so opposite; her little soul

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS
Clinging round his—a tendril round an oak-

FROM GHENT TO AIX. A lily cleaving to a rugged rock.

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ROBERT BROWNING.

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1.

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
“Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts

undrew;
“ Speed !” echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

II.

He sat beside her bed, and in his hands
Buried his streaming eyes. His soul rebelled:
“She had no right to die—to rive his heart;
Rob him and it of all life's tenderest ties."
He felt as he could say, “Lily, lie there
For ever dying; but, oh! never die
'Til I die too.” He thought not of his wife-
She was his other self. She was himself;
But Lily was their cherished life of life-
Of each and both a part—so grafted on,
That, if removed, they must become once more
Two bodies with two souls—no longer one,
Their living link destroyed—not loving less,
But singly loving—'twixt their hearts a gulf
Unbridged by Lily's love;—a love so pure
That not a taint of selfishness was near;
All this he felt, and on the future looked
As on a desolation.

Lily spoke-
Or whispered, rather—but a thunder peal
Would less affect him than her sinking tones:
“Raise me, dear father; take me to your breast-

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our

place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

III.

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;

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• This spirit shall return to Him

That gave its heavenly spark; Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim,

When thou thyself art dark ! No! it shall live again, and shine In bliss unknown to beams of thine,

By Him recalled to breath, Who captive led captivity, Who robbed the grave of victory,

And took the sting from death!'

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without

peer;

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DREAM OF THE CONDEMNED FELON. Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea;

Now arm in arm, now parted, they behold
GEORGR CRABBE," THE BOROUGH."

The glittering waters on the shingles rolled:
Yes, e'en in sleep the impressions all remain,

The timid girls, half dreading their design, He hears the sentence and he feels the chain;

Dip the small foot in the retarded brine, He sees the judge and jury when he shakes,

And search for crimson weeds, which spreading flow. And loudly cries, Not guilty,' and awakes:

Or lie like pictures on the sand below; Then chilling tremblings o'er his body creep, With all those bright red pebbles that the sun Till worn-out nature is compelled to sleep.

Through the small waves so softly shines upon,
Now comes the dream again: it shows each scene, And those live, lucid jellies which the eye
With each small circumstance that comes between- Delights to trace as they swim glittering by;
The call to suffering, and the very deed--

Pearl shells and rubied star-fish they admire,
There crowds go with him, follow, and precede; And will arrange above the parlor fire.
Some heartless shout, some pity all condemn, Tokens of bliss! Oh, horrible! a wave
While he in fancied envy looks at them;

Roars as it rises-save me, Edward, save!'
He seems he place for that sad act to see,

She cries.' Alas! the watchman on his way
And dreams the very thirst which then will be; Calls, and lets in-truth, terror, and the day!
A priest attends—it seems the one he knew
In his best days, beneath whose care he grew.
At this his terrors take a sudden flight;

GODIVA.
He sees his native village with delight;

ALFRED TENNYSON. The house, the chamber, where he once arrayed His youthful person, where h: knelt and prayed; She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode Then, too, the comforts he enjoyed at home,

About the hall, among his d gs alone. The days of joy, the joys themselves are come;

She told him of their fears, The hours of innocence, the timid look

And prayed him, 'If they pay this tax, they starve.' Of his loved maid, when first her hand he took Whereat he stared, replying, half amazed, And told his hope; her trembling joy appears, You would not let your little finger ache Her forced reserve, and his retreating fears.

For such as these!'_But I would die,' said she. I now are present—'tis a moment's gleam

He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul; Of former sunshine-stay, delightful dream!

Then filliped at the diamond in her ear; Let him within his pleasant garden walk,

O ay, ay, ay, you talk !'—'Alas!' she said, Give him her arm, of blessings let them talk.

• But prove me what it is I would not do.' Yes! all are with him now, and all the while And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand, Lite's early prospects, and his Fa any's smile; He answered: ‘Ride you naked through the town, Then come his sister and his village friend,

And I repeal it;' and nodding as in scorn, And he will now the sweetest moments spend He parted, with great strides among his dogs. Life has to yield: no, never will he find

So left alone, the passions of her mindAgain on earth such pleasure in his mind:

As winds from all the compass shift and blowHe goes through shrubby walks these friends among, Made war upon each other for an hour, Love in their looks and honor on the tongue; Till pity won. She sent a herald forth, Nay, there's a charm beyond what nature shows, And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all The bloom is sofler, and more sweetly glows; The hard condition; but that she would loose Pierced by no crime, and urged by no desire

The people: therefore, as they loved her well, For moro than true and honest hearts require, From then till noon no foot should pace the street, They feel the calm delight, and thus proceed No eye look down, she passing; but that all Through the green lane, then linger in the mead, Should keep within, door shut, and window barred. Stray o'er the heath in all its purple bloom,

Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there And pluck the blossom where the wild-bees hum; Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt, Then through the broomy bound with ease they pass, The grim Earl's gift; but ever at a breath And press the sandy sheep-walk's slender grass, She lingered, looking like a summer moon Where dwarfish flowers among the gorse are spread, Half-dipt in cloud: anon she shook her head, And the lamb browses by the linnet's bed;

And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee; Then 'cross the bounding brook they make their way Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair O'er its rough bridge, and there behold the bay; Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid The ocean smiling to the fervid sun,

From pillar unto pillar, until she reached The waves that faintly fall, and slowly run,

The gateway; there she found her palfrey trapt The ships at distance, and the boats at hand; In purple blazoned with armorial gold. And now they walk upon the sea-side sand,

Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: Counting the number, and what kind they bi, The deep air listened round her as she rode,

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