And ever, against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs;
Married to immortal verse,

Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden soul of harmony;

That Orpheus' self may heave his head.
From golden slumber on a bed

Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half-regained Eurydice.

These delights if thou canst give,

Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

HOME

JAMES MONTGOMERY

imprisoned and During the lat

James Montgomery, a religious poet, was born in 1771 at Irvine in Ayrshire. He lived to be eighty-three years old. For more than thirty years he edited a newspaper, and was twice fined for printing what was deemed a seditious libel. ter part of his life he had a pension of £200 a year from the government. Among his longer poems are "The Wanderer of Switzerland,” "The West Indies," "The World Before the Flood," " Greenland,” and "Pelican Island," none of which is much read now. Many of his shorter poems are very popular. If you are so disposed, you might read "The Common Lot," "Prayer," Aspirations of Youth," and

66

Night," all of which are very beautiful.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brightest suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth.
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.

In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ;
For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,

There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride;
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend.
Here woman reigns: the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life.
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel guard of love and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,

The fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.

Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? Art thou a man? A patriot? Look around;

Oh, thou shalt find howe'er thy footsteps roam,

That land thy country and that spot thy home!

THE PILGRIM

JOHANS FREIE TS KEZLER

YOUTH'S by gringane warmly kaowing,

Wens I find me wird so mam.

And the dance of porn. th q waz
Left I in my father's home.

Of my biangha-za-xerzz.—
Of my world gear vook I note
Careless as an infant wearin

To my pigm the tone

For I placed my mighty hope is
Dim and holy words of faith
“Wander fort—the way a spen,
Ever on the upward pats -
Till thou gain the guilden port
Till its gate close to thee,
There the eartily and the moral
Deathless and divine shall be."

Night on morning stole, and stealeth,
Never, never stand I stil

And the future yet concealeth
What I seek, and what I will.
Mount on mount arose before me,
Torrents hemmed me every side.

But I built a bridge that bore:
O'er the roaring tempest ti
Toward the East I reached a
On its shores I did not res:

Faith from danger can deliver,
And I trusted to its breast.
Drifted in the whirling motion,

Seas themselves around me roll,
Wide and wider spreads the ocean,
Far and farther flies the goal.
While I live is never given

Bridge or wave the goal to near-
Earth will never meet the Heaven,
Never can the There be Here.

I

PHILLIPS

THE LOST ARTS

WENDELL PHILLIPS

His

Wendell Phillips was born in Boston in 1811. He graduated from Harvard College in 1831, and from its Law School in 1833. father was the first Mayor of Boston. He was allied to many of the best families in the state. His first great speech was that denouncing the murder of Lovejoy. He was a most intense antislavery man, and succeeded Garrison as President of the Antislavery Society. He is one of the Great American orators; by very many regarded as the greatest this country has ever produced. His greatest lecture is, perhaps, "The Lost Arts." Phillips died in 1884.

HAVE been somewhat criticized, year after year, for this endeavor to open up the claims of old times. I have been charged with repeating useless fables with no foundation. To-day I take the mere subject of glass. This material, Pliny says, was discovered by accident. Some sailors, landing on the eastern coast of Spain, took

their cooking utensils and supported them on the sand by the stones that they found in the neighborhood; they kindled their fire, cooked the fish, finished the meal, and removed the apparatus; and glass was found to have resulted from the niter and sea sand, vitrified by the heat. Well, I have been a dozen times criticized by a number of wise men, in newspapers, who have said that this was a very idle tale; that there never was sufficient heat in a few bundles of sticks to produce vitrification — glass making. I happened, two years ago, to meet on the prairies of Missouri, Professor Shepherd, who started from Yale College, and, like a genuine Yankee, brings up anywhere where there is anything to do. I happened to mention this criticism to him. "Well," says he, "a little practical life would have freed men from that doubt." Said he, "We stopped last year in Mexico, to cook some venison. We got down from our saddles, and put the cooking apparatus on stones we found there; made our fire with the wood we got there, resembling ebony; and when we removed the apparatus there was pure silver gotten out of the embers by the intense heat of that almost iron wood. "Now," said he, "that heat was greater than any necessary to vitrify the materials of glass."

Well, now the very choice of phrases betrays a confession of inferiority, and you see it again creeps out in the amount we borrow. Take the whole range of imaginative literature, and we are all wholesale borrowers. In every matter that relates to invention, to use, or beauty, or form, we are borrowers.

You may glance around the furniture of the palaces in Europe, and you may gather all these utensils of art or