His little daughter, whose sweet face

'He heeded not reviling tones,
Nor sold his heart to idle moans,
Tho' cursed and scorn'd, and bruised with He kiss'd, taking his last embrace,

stones :

'But looking upward, full of grace, He pray'd, and from a happy place God's glory smote him on the face.'

Becomes dishonour to her race

'His sons grow up that bear his name, Some grow to honour, some to shame,-But he is chill to praise or blame.

The sullen answer slid betwixt :

'Not that the grounds c. hope were fix'd, The elements were kindlier mix'd.'

I said, 'I toil beneath the curse,
But, knowing not the universe,
I fear to slide from bad to worse.

'He will not hear the north-wind rave, Nor, moaning, household shelter crave From winter rains that beat his grave.

'High up the vapours fold and swim : About him broods the twilight dim: The place he knew forgetteth him.'

'A life of nothings, nothing worth, From that first nothing ere his birth To that last nothing under earth!'

'Or if thro' lower lives I came--
Tho' all experience past became
Consolidate in mind and frame-

'These words,' I said, 'are like the rest; I might forget my weaker lot;

No certain clearness, but at best
A vague suspicion of the breast:

'But if I grant, thou mightst defend The thesis which thy words intendThat to begin implies to end;

'Yet how should I for certain hold, Because my memory is so cold, That I first was in human mould?

'I cannot make this matter plain, But I would shoot, howe'er in vain, A random arrow from the brain.

'It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.

'As old mythologies relate,
Some draught of Lethe might await
The slipping thro' from state to state.

'As here we find in trances, men Forget the dream that happens then, Until they fall in trance again.

'So might we, if our state were such As one before, remember much,

'But thou,' said I, 'hast miss'd thy mark, Who sought'st to wreck my mortal ark,

For those two likes might meet and touch. By making all the horizon dark.

'But, if I lapsed from nobler place,
Some legend of a fallen race
Alone might hint of my disgrace;

'Some vague emotion of delight In gazing up an Alpine height,

'Why not set forth, if I should do This rashness, that which might ensue With this old soul in organs new?

'Whatever crazy sorrow saith,

No life that breathes with human breath

Some yearning toward the lamps of night. Has ever truly long'd for death.