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I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy

north, And the larch has hung all his tassels forth; The fisher is out on the sunny sea, [free, And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures And the pine has a fringe of softer green, And the moss looks bright where my foot

hath been.

There were graceful heads, with their ringlets bright,

(light; Which tossed in the breeze with a play of There were eyes, in whose glistening

laughter lay No faint remembrance of dull decay.

1 have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh,

[sky; And called out each voice of the deep blue From the night bird's lay through the

starry time In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes,

[breaks. When the dark fir-branch into verdure

From the streams and founts I have loosed

the chain, They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flashing down from the mountainbrows,

(boughs, They are flinging spray o'er the forest They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,

(waves! And the earth resounds with the joy of

There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's

head, As if for a banquet all earth were spread; There were voices that rung through the

sapphire sky, And had not a sound of mortality. Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains past?

[last. Ye have looked on Death since ye met me I know whence the shadow comes o'er you

now, — Ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow, Ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace, She hath taken the fairest of beauty's race, With their laughing eyes and their festal crown,

[down. They are gone from amongst you in silence They are gone from amongst you, the young and fair,

[hair ; Ye have lost the gleam of their shining But I know of a land where there falls no blight,

[light. I shall find them there, with their eyes of Where Death 'midst the blooms of the

morn may dwell, I tarry no longer-farewell, farewell!

Comeforth, Oyechildren of gladness,come!
Where the violets lie may be now your home.
Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye,
And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly!
With the lyre and the wreath, and the

joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay. Away from the dwellings of careworn men, The waters are sparkling in grove and glen; Away from the chamber and sullen hearth, The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth;

(strains, Their light stems thrill to the wild wood And youth is abroad in my green domains.

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But ye! ye are changed since yemet me last! There is something bright from your fea

tures past; There is that come over your brow and eye Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die.

[yet— Ye smile! but your smile hath a dimness Oh! what have ye looked on since last we

met?

SON of the ocean isle !

Where sleep your mighty dead?
Show me what high and stately pile

Is reared o'er Glory's bed.
Go, stranger! track the deep,

Free, free the white sail spread ! Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep

Where rest not England's dead.

Ye are changed, ye are changed ! and I

see not here All whom I saw in the vanished year,

CASABIANCA. Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the Admiral of the Orient, remained at his post in the battle of the Nile), after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. The boy stood on the burning deck,

Whence all but him had fled, The flame that lit the battle's wreck

Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud though childlike form.
The flames rolled on-he would not go.

Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud-"Say, father, say,

If yet my task is done?"
He knew not that the chieftain lay,

Unconscious of his son.

On Egypt's burning plains,

By the pyramid o'erswayed,
With fearful power the noonday reigns,

And the palm-trees yield no shade.
But let the angry sun

From heaven look fiercely red,
Unfelt by those whose task is done!

There slumber England's dead.
The hurricane hath might

Along the Indian shore,
And far, by Ganges' banks at night,

Is heard the tiger's roar.
But let the sound roll on!

It hath no tone of dread,
For those that from their toils are gone;-

There slumber England's dead !
Loud rush the torrent-floods

The western wilds among,
And free, in green Columbia's woods,

The hunter's bow is strung.
But let the floods rush on!

Let the arrow's flight be sped !
Why should they reck whose task is done?

There slumber England's dead.
The mountain-storms rise high

In the snowy Pyrenees,
And toss the pine-boughs through the sky,

Like rose-leaves on the breeze.
But let the storm rage on!

Let the forest wreaths be shed ;
For the Roncesvalles' field is won,-

There slumber England's dead.
On the frozen deep's repose

'Tis a dark and dreadful hour, When round the ship the ice-fields close,

To chain her with their power.
But let the ice drift on!

Let the cold-blue desert spread !
Their course with mast and flag is done,

There slumber England's dead.
The warlike of the isles,

The men of field and wave!
ire not the rocks their funeral piles,

The seas and shores their grave?
Go, stranger! track the deep,

Free, free the white sail spread ! Wave may not foa.n, nor wild wind sweep,

Where rest not England's dead.

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“Speak, father!” once again he cried,

If I may yet be gone !"
-And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair ;
And looked from that lone post of death

In still yet brave despair :-
And shouted but once more aloud,

My father! must I stay?".
While o'er him fast, through sail and

s!ıroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,

Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound

The boy-oh! where was he?
--Ask of the winds that far around

With fragments strewed the sea! With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,

That well had borne their partBut the noblest thing that perished there,

Was that young faithful heart.

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The corn-craik was chirming,

His sad eerie cry, And the wee stars were dreaming

Their path through the sky. The burn babbled freely

Its love to each flower, But we heard and we saw nought

In that blessed hour.

THE VOICES OF THE WIND.
From The Light of Asia."

ONCE they set A stringed gourd on the sill, there where

the wind Could linger o'er its notes and play at

willWild music makes the wind on silver strings

(that ; And those who lay around heard only But Prince Siddartha heard the Devas

play, And to his ears they sang such words as

these:

AN EASTERN MORNING.

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What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless

bliss ? Nay, if love lasted, there were joy in this; But life's way is the wind's way; all these

things Are but brief voices breathed on shifting

strings.

THEN slept he* for what space the fleet

moon asks To swim a tenth part of her cloudy sea; But rose ere the False-dawn, and stood

again Wistful on some dark platform of his hill, Watching the sleeping earth with ardent eyes,

[things, And thoughts embracing all its living While o'er the waving fields that murmur

moved Which is the kiss of Morn waking the lands, And in the East that iniracle of Day Gathered and grew. At first a dusk so dim, Night seems still unaware of whispered dawn.

(twice, But soon-before the jungle cock crows A white verge clear, a widening, brightening white,

[floods High as the herald-star, which fades in Of silver, warming into pale gold caught By topmost clouds, and faming on their rims

[brink To fervent golden glow, flushed from the With saffron, scarlet, crimson, amethyst; Whereat the sky burns splendid to the blue, And, robed in raiment of glad light, the

King
Of Life and Glory cometh.

O Maya's son! because we roam the earth, Moan we upon these strings; we make no

mirth, So many woes we see in many lands, So many streaming eyes and wringing

hands.

Yet mock we while we wail, for, could they

know, This life they cling to is but empty show; 'Twere all as well to bid a cloud to stand, Or hold a running river with the hand.

THE REJOICING OF NATURE AT

BŮDDHA'S VICTORY.

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Lo! the Dawn Sprang with Buddh's Victory ; lo ! in the

East Flamed the first fires of beauteous Day,

poured forth Through fleeting folds of Night's black

drapery. High in the widening blue the herald-star Faded to paler silver as there shot Brighter and brightest bars of rosy gleam Across the grey. Far off the shadowy hills Saw the great Sun, before the world was

'ware, And donned their crowns of crimson ;

flower by flower Felt the warm breath of Morn, and 'gan

unfold Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light,

* Buddha.

So sigh we, passing o'er the silver strings, To thee who know'st not yet of earthly

things; So say we; mocking, as we pass away, These lovely shadows wherewith thou dost

play.

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And saying, “There hath happen some

mighty thing." Also in Ran and jungle grew that day Friendship amongst the creatures: spotted deer

(cubs, Browsed fearless where the tigress fed her And cheetahs lapped the pool beside the bucks ;

[scoured, Under the eagle's rock the brown hares While his fierce beak but preened an idle wing:

[beam, The snake sunned all his jewels in the With deadly fangs in sheath; the shrike The nestling finch; the emerald halcyons Sate dreaming while the fishes played be

neath; Nor hawked the merops, though the

butterfliesCrimson, and blue, and amber- fitted

thick Around his perch.

let pass

Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems Decking the earth with radiance, 'broidering

[fringe, The sinking storm-clouds with a golden Gilding the feathers of the palms which

waved Glad salutation ; darting beams of gold Into the glades; touching with magic wand The stream to rippled ruby; in the brake Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes, And saying, “It is day;" in nested sleep Touching the small heads under many a wing,

(light of day." And whispering, Children, praise the Whereat there piped anthems of all the

birds, The köil's fluted song, the bulbul's hymn, The "morning! morning !" of the painted

thrush, The twitter of the sunbirds starting forth To find the honey ere the bees be out, The grey crow's

caw,

the parrot's scream, the strokes

[chirp, Of the green hammersmith, the myna's The never-finished love-talk of the doves : Yea! and so holy was the influence Of that high Dawn which came with victory,

(spread That far and near in homes of men there An unknown peace. The slayer hid his knife ;

[shroff The robber laid his plunder back; the Counted full tale of coins; all evil hearts Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the

balm Of that divinest Daybreak lightened earth. Kings at fierce war called truce; the sick men leaped

(smiled Laughing from beds of pain; the dying As though they knew that happy Morn was sprung

[East; From fountains farther than the utmost And over the heart of sad Yasốdhara, Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed, Came sudden bliss, as if love should not

fail, Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy. So glad the world was, though it wist not why

(songs That over desolate wastes went swooning Of mirth, the voice of bodiless Prets and

Bhuts, Foreseeing Buddh; and Devas in the air Cried, “It is finished, finished !" and the

priests Stood with the wondering people in the streets,

[the sky, Watching those golden splendours flood

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