Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens, Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship, Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin." And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies, Wandered alone, and she cried, "O Gabriel! O my beloved' When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?" Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets, Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. "Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness; And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-morrow!" -H. W. Longfellow. I A Portrait. "One Name is Elizabeth."-Ben Jonson, WILL paint her as I see her, Ten times have the lilies blown Oval cheeks encolored faintly, And a forehead fair and saintly, Face and figure of a child,— Though too calm, you think, and tender For the childhood you would lend her. Yet child-simple, undefiled, Frank, obedient,-waiting still Moving light, as all your things, As young birds, or early wheat Only, free from flutterings Of loud mirth that scorneth measure,- Choosing pleasures, for the rest, Quiet talk she liketh best, In a bower of gentle looks,Watering flowers, or reading books. And her voice, it murmurs lowly, As a silver stream may run, Which yet feels, you feel, the sun. And her smile, it seems half holy, As if drawn from thoughts more far Than our common jestings are. And if any poet knew her, He would sing of her with falls And if any painter drew her, He would paint her unaware And if reader read the poem, He would whisper, "You have done a And a dreamer (did you show him And a stranger, when he sees her In the street even, smileth stilly, And all voices that address her The Mistress. Appears there naught for which to weep, She'll weep for naught for his dear sake; She clasps her sister in her sleep; Her love in dreams is most awake. There's nothing left of what she was, Back to the babe the woman dies; If none but her dear despot hears. TAST Advice to Young Men. ASTE not of fish that have black tails; that is, converse not with men that are smutted with vicious qualities. Stride not over the beam of the scales; wherein is taught us the regard we ought to have for justice, so as not to go beyond its measures. Sit not on a chonix; wherein sloth is forbidden, and we are required to take care to provide ourselves with the necessaries of life, Do not strike hands with every man; this means we ought not to be over-hasty to make acquaintance or friendship with others. Wear not a tight ring; that is, we are to labor after a free and independent way of living, and to submit to no fetters. Eat not thy heart; which forbids to afflict our souls, and waste them with vexatious cares. Abstain from beans; that is, keep out of public offices, for anciently the choice of the officers of state was made by beans.-Plutarch. The Amusements of Youth. F those who are the enemies of innocent amusement had the direction of the world, they would take away the spring and youth, the former from the year, the latter from human life.-Balzac. My Life. M Y life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But ere the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground—to die! The sweetest dews of night are shed, That trembles in the moon's pale ray; Its hold is frail-its date is brief, Restless-and soon to pass away! Yet ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shadeThe winds bewail the leafless treeBut none shall breathe a sigh for me? My life is like the prints which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, All trace will vanish from the sand; Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the seaBut none, alas! shall mourn for me! --Richard Henry Wilde. Counsel to the Young. MIGHT I give counsel to my young hearer, I would say, Try to frequent the company of your betters; in books and life that is the most wholesome society; learn to admire rightly-the great pleasure of life is that. Note what the great specially admire; they admire great things: narrow spirits admire basely, and worship meanly. |