I have tried to give an outline of Dante's life as drawn from his own words. But the rays shed by this great light of the fourteenth century touch us each so differently through the prism of years, that perhaps my vision of Dante may only meet with the sympathy of a few.

September 10th, 1888.

HÉLOÏSE DURANT.

TO

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

As smallest urchin in the village school
To say some trying task finds he must rise,
Haunted by hopes of a far distant prize,
Fearing to fail and so remain the fool,
Knowing how rarely he has felt the rule,
How oft the master's smile, with looks defies
The scholars' taunts, seeking his teacher's eyes
To gain new confidence should courage cool ;
So I, the least on learning's noble list,

In life's rough school face bravely gaze of crowd;
Nor mark when carping critics rudely twist
My sense to naught, but stand erect and proud
If from thine eyes and lips encouragement
And smile I glean. Master! I rest content.

1881

IN MEMORIAM.

WHEN faint my soul with task yet incomplete,

Who nursed kind hope save thee-and urged to dare
When I dared not? In thy now vacant chair
Thou sat'st, mild critic, dropping counsel sweet

On her who loved and listened at thy feet.
To-day I tread rhyme's way alone, nor care
For praise nor blame, since thou'lt no longer share
With me my poem's triumph or defeat.

Oh, let thy guidance still my safeguard prove!

As giant oak wind-stricken to the ground

To all the thronging tuneful choir around
Yields royal shelter. So of thy generous love
That blossoms freshly o'er thy hallowed grave,
One tiny spray to nest my song I crave.

1886.