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toward inferior or undeveloped minds. She wrote but little poetry; but what she wrote is marked by the idiosyncrasies of an independent thinker. She published "Summer on the Lakes" (1843), "At Home and Abroad " (1846), and several minor works. She lacked personal attractions, but in spite of this defect won the admiration of some of the most gifted of her contemporaries.

SONNETS.

I. ORPHEUS.

Each Orpheus must to the depths descend,
For only thus the poet can be wise,-
Must make the sad Persephoné his friend,
And buried love to second life arise;

Again his love must lose through too much love,
Must lose his life by living life too true,
For what he sought below is passed above,
Already done is all that he would do;
Must tune all being with his single lyre,
Must melt all rocks free from their primal pain,
Must search all Nature with his one soul's fire,
Must bind anew all forms in heavenly chain.
If he already sees what he must do,
Well may he shade his eyes from the far-shining view.

II. BEETHOVEN.

Most intellectual master of the art,

Which, best of all, teaches the mind of man
The universe in all its varied plan-
What strangely mingled thoughts thy strains impart!
Here the faint tenor thrills the inmost heart,
There the rich bass the Reason's balance shows;
Hero breathes the softest sigh that Love e'er knows;
There sudden fancies, seeming without chart,
Float into wildest breezy interludes;

The past is all forgot-hopes sweetly breathe,
And our whole being glows--when lo! beneath
The flowery brink, Despair's deep sob concludes!
Startled, we strive to free us from the chain,
Notes of high triumph swell, and we are thine again!

ON LEAVING THE WEST.

Farewell, ye soft and sumptuous solitudes!
Ye fairy distances, ye lordly woods,
Haunted by paths like those that Poussin knew,
When after his all gazers' eyes he drew:

I go-and if I never more may steep
An eager heart in your enchantments deep,

Yet ever to itself that heart may say,

Be not exacting--thou hast lived one day

Hast looked on that which matches with thy mood,
Impassioned sweetness of full being's flood,
Where nothing checked the bold yet gentle wave,
Where naught repelled the lavish love that gave.
A tender blessing lingers o'er the scene
Like some young mother's thought, fond, yet serene,
And through its life new-born our lives have been.
Once more farewell-a sad, a sweet farewell;
And if I never must behold you more,

In other worlds I will not cease to tell
The rosary I here have numbered o'er;
And bright-haired Hope will lend a gladdened ear,
And Love will free him from the grasp of Fear,
And Gorgon critics, while the tale they hear,
Shall dew their stony glances with a tear,
If I but catch one echo from your spell:
And so farewell-a grateful, sad farewell!

James Freeman Clarke.

AMERICAN.

Clarke was born in 1810, in Hanover, N. H., where his parents, residents of Boston, were accidentally on a visit. He graduated at Harvard College in 1829, and at the Cambridge Divinity School in 1833. He was pastor of a Society in Louisville, Ky., from 1833 to 1840. He then returned to Boston, where he became highly popular as a preacher. He is the author of several volumes of sermons, which have had a wide circulation. He has written original poems of high merit as well as translations, very happily executed. On his seventieth birthday (April 4, 1880), in reckoning up the personal friends to whom he had been intellectually indebted, Mr. Clarke remarked: "I am especially thankful to Margaret Fuller. From her I learned the power that is in us all, the mighty powers of the human soul. She roused me to the value of life; she taught me how to live for an end, and a good one." See the poem by Holmes (page 655) on Clarke's birthday.

PRAYER OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. WRITTEN IN HER BOOK OF DEVOTIONS JUST BEFORE HER EXECUTION.

"O Domine Deus! speravi in te;

O care mi Jesu! nunc libera me.

In dura catena, in misera pœnâ,

Desidero te.

Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo,
Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me!"

Oh Master and Maker! my hope is in thee.
My Jesus, dear Saviour! now set my soul free.
From this my hard prison, my spirit uprisen,
Soars upward to thee.

Thus moaning, and groaning, and bending the knee,

I adore, and implore that thou liberate me.

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THE PERFECT WHOLE.

AFTER THE GERMAN OF GEIBEL.

Live in that Whole to which all parts belong;
Thus Beauty, Action, Truth, shall be thy dower.
Compose thyself in God, and so be strong,
Since only in life's fulness is its power.
As, in a plant, leaves, flowers, and fruits must grow
Out of one germ, each centred in the whole,-
So must Love, Thought, and Deed forever flow
Forth from one fountain in the human soul.

William Henry Channing.

AMERICAN.

Channing, the nephew and biographer of the celebrated divine, Dr. William Ellery Channing, and the son of Francis Dana Channing, was born in Boston, May 25th, 1810. His biography of his uncle is written with marked ability. His translations from the German are rendered with great skill. Channing was settled for some time over a Unitarian Church in Liverpool; then became a resident of London. In 1880 he revisited his native country, and forwarded the movement for a memorial church at Newport, R. I., in commemoration of his uncle. His daughter is the wife of Edwin Arnold, the gifted English poet.

MIGNON'S SONG.

FROM GOETHE,

Know'st thou the land where flowers of citron bloom?
The golden orange glows through leafy gloom?
From the blue heavens the breezes float so bland?
The myrtles still, and tall the laurels stand?
Know'st thou the land?

Oh there, oh there!
Loved one, with thee I long to wander there.

Know'st thou the house? Its roof the columns bear,—
The polished floors, the halls so bright and fair,
Where marble figures standing look on me;
"Thou poorest child, what have they done to thee?"
Know'st thou the house?

Oh there, oh there!

With thee, kind guardian, oh could I be there!"

Know'st thou the mountain peak? the airy bridge, Where loaded mules climb o'er the misty ridge? In hollows dwell the serpent's ancient brood; The rent crag rushes down the foaming flood: Know'st thou the mount?

Oh there, oh there

Leadeth our way-O father, lead us there!

Edmund Hamilton Sears.

AMERICAN.

Sears (1810-1876) was a native of Berkshire, Mass. He graduated at Union College, Schenectady, N. Y., in 1834, and at the Theological School in Cambridge in 1837. He became a Unitarian minister, and preached at Wayland, Mass., till 1865, when he became pastor over the Society in Weston. He was the author of "Athanasia, or Foregleams of Immortality," a work highly esteemed both in England and America; also, "The Fourth Gospel the Heart of Christ." He visited England in 1873, where he was received with much kindness in religious circles. O. W. Holmes, the poet, pronounces the hymn we quote to be "one of the finest and most beautiful ever written."

CHRISTMAS SONG.

Calm on the listening ear of night

Come Heaven's melodious strains, Where wild Judea stretches far

Her silver-mantled plains; Celestial choirs from courts above

Shed sacred glories there; And angels with their sparkling lyres Make music on the air.

The answering hills of Palestine

Send back the glad reply, And greet from all their holy heights The day-spring from on high: O'er the blue depths of Galilee

There comes a holier calm, And Sharon waves, in solemn praise, Her silent groves of palm.

"Glory to God!" The lofty strain The realm of ether fills:

How sweeps the song of solemn joy O'er Judah's sacred hills! "Glory to God!" The sounding skies Loud with their anthems ring: "Peace on the earth; good-will to men, From Heaven's eternal King!"

Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!

The Saviour now is born: More bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains Breaks the first Christmas morn; And brighter on Moriah's brow,

Crowned with her temple-spires, Which first proclaim the new-born light, Clothed with its Orient fires.

This day shall Christian lips be mute, And Christian hearts be cold?

Oh, catch the anthem that from heaven
O'er Judah's mountains rolled!
When nightly burst from seraph-harps
The high and solemn lay,—
"Glory to God! on earth be peace;
Salvation comes to-day!"

THE ANGELS' SONG.

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace to the earth, good-will to men
From Heaven's all-gracious King:"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven sky they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled ;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:

Above its sad and lowly plains

They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds The blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long; Beneath the angel strain have rolled

Two thousand years of wrong; And men, at war with men, hear not The love-song which they bring: Oh! hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing!

And ye, beneath life's crushing load
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps, and slow,-

Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing:
Oh! rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet-bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth

Its ancient splendors fling,

And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing.

Alfred Tennyson.

The third son of the Rev. George Clayton Tennyson, D.D., Alfred, was born in the parsonage of Somersby (near Spilsby), in Lincolnshire, in 1810. He received his early education at the school of his native town. From thence both he and his elder brothers, Frederic and Charles, proceeded to Cambridge, entering at Trinity College when Dr. Whewell was tutor. In 1829 Alfred won the Chancellor's Medal for his poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo." While at Cambridge, Charles (who subsequently took the name of Turner) and Alfred published privately a small volume of poems, which was favorably noticed by Coleridge. In 1830 Alfred put forth a volume entitled "Poems, chiefly Lyrical." It contained, among other pieces, "Claribel," the "Ballad of Oriana," ," "Lilian," and "The Merman." It commanded no immediate success, though the discerning few saw in it the promise of a new and original poet.

In 1833 another volume appeared, and from that time Tennyson's fame began to broaden and flourish. It was greatly increased by the appearance in 1842 of a collection of his smaller pieces, with the addition of "Locksley Hall," "Godiva," "Lady Clara Vere de Vere," the "Lord of Burleigh," the "Two Voices," "Dora," "St. Simon Stylites," etc. His position among contemporary poets was now established. Whatever has appeared since has only extended and confirmed his reputation. In 1847, "The Princess" was published; in 1850, the author's genius culminated in "In Memoriam," the most memorable of all his works, and the best sustained poem of the kind in all literature. It was a tribute to the memory of his college chum, Arthur Hallam, son of the historian, and betrothed to the poet's sister Emily. Charlotte Bronté characterized the work as "beautiful but monotonous;" but the poet's skill is shown in making his one theme so replete with interest and with profound reflections on the destiny of man. Wordsworth died in 1850, and the office of Poet-laureate was conferred upon Tennyson, with a pension of £200 per annum. In 1852 appeared his "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington." In 1855, "Maud" was published; in 1858, the "Idyls of the King;" in 1864, "Enoch Arden;" in 1875 and 1876, his dramas of "Queen Mary" and "Harold.” For many years Tennyson has lived in the midst of his family in retirement at Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight, not wholly secure, however, from the intrusive curiosity of tourists and visitors to the island.

EDWARD GRAY.

Sweet Emma Moreland, of yonder town, Met me walking on yonder way." "And have you lost your heart ?" she said; "And are you married yet, Edward Gray ?”

Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me:
Bitterly weeping I turned away:
"Sweet Emma Moreland, love no more
Can touch the heart of Edward Gray.

"Ellen Adair she loved me well,

Against her father's and mother's will: To-day I sat for an hour and wept

By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill.

"Shy she was, and I thought her cold;

Thought her proud, and fled over the sea; Filled I was with folly and spite,

When Ellen Adair was dying for me.

"Cruel, cruel the words I said!

Cruelly came they back to-day: 'You're too slight and fickle,' I said,

To trouble the heart of Edward Gray.

"There I put my face in the grassWhispered, 'Listen to my despair:

I repent me of all I did:

Speak a little, Ellen Adair!'

"Then I took a pencil, and wrote On the mossy stone, as I lay, 'Here lies the body of Ellen Adair; And here the heart of Edward Gray!

"Love may come, and love may go, And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree: But I will love no more, no more,

Till Ellen Adair come back to me.

"Bitterly wept I over the stone:

Bitterly weeping I turned away: There lies the body of Ellen Adair! And there the heart of Edward Gray!"

WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA. WELCOM

MARCH 7TH, 1863.

Sea-king's daughter from over the sea,
Alexandra!

Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,
But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra!

Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet!
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street!
Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet,
Scatter the blossom under her feet!

Break, happy land, into earlier flowers!

Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers!
Blazon your mottoes of blessing and prayer!
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours!
Warble, O bugle, and trumpet, blare!
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers!
Flames, on the windy headland flare!
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire!
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air!
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire!

Rush to the roof, sudden rocket, and higher
Melt into the stars for the land's desire!
Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice,

Roll as the ground-swell dashed on the strand,
Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land,
And welcome her, welcome the land's desire,
The sea-king's daughter, as happy as fair,
Blissful bride of a blissful heir,

Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea-
O joy to the people and joy to the throne,
Come to us, love us, and make us your own;
For Saxon or Dane or Norman we,
Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be,
We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra!

GO NOT, HAPPY DAY.

FROM "MAUD."

Go not, happy day, from the shining fields,
Go not, happy day, till the maiden yields.
Rosy is the West, rosy is the South,
Roses are her cheeks, and a rose her mouth.
When the happy Yes falters from her lips,
Pass and blush the news o'er the blowing ships.
Over blowing seas, over seas at rest,
Pass the happy news, blush it through the West,
Till the red man dance by his red cedar-tree,
And the red man's babe leap, beyond the sea.
Blush from West to East, blush from East to West,
Till the West is East, blush it through the West.
Rosy is the West, rosy is the South,
Roses are her cheeks, and a rose her mouth.

ASK ME NO MORE.

FROM "THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY."!

Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the

shape,

With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; But O too fond, when have I answered thee? Ask me no more.

1 "The Princess" is a story of a prince and princess contracted by their parents without having seen each other. The lady repudiates the alliance; but after a series of adventures and incidents, somewhat improbable and incoherent, she relents and surrenders. The mixture of modern ideas with those of the age of chivalry makes "The Princess" truly a medley.

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