been; but I don't give way to them here. Dearest mother, I sometimes hope it will all end well; but shall not think any more of it till I hear from England. * * EDWARD FITZGERALD, 1763-1793. SONG. See, O see! How every tree, Every bower, Every flower, A new life gives to others' joys, Grief-stricken lie, Nor can meet With any sweet But what faster mine destroys. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind has lost all measures? Hear, O hear! How sweet and clear The nightingale And water's fall In concert join for others' ear, While to me, For harmony, Every air Echoes despair, And every drop provokes a tear. What are all the senses' pleasures, GEORGE DIGBY, Earl of Bristol, 1612-1676. SONG. Sweet are the thoughts that savor of content; The homely house that harbors quiet rest, The cottage that affords no pride or care, The mean that 'grees with country music best, ROBERT GREEN, 1550-1592. BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE. 1725. Far from our debtors; no Dublin letters; PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE. A companion with news; a great want of shoes; Our horses away; no straw, oats, or hay; December in May; our boys run away; all servants at play! JONATHAN SWIFT, 1667-1723. XXIV. Mind and Cloud A STORM IN AUTUMN. FROM THE LATIN OF VIRGIL. HY should I mark each storm and starry sign, W When milder suns in autumn swift decline? Or what new cares await the vernal hour, When spring descends in many a driving shower, While bristle into ear the bearded plains, And the green stalk distends its milky grains? E'en in mid autumn, while the jocund hind Bade the gay field the gather'd harvest bind, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descendWaste, far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne! While in dark eddies, as the whirlwind past, The straw and stubble flew before the blast. Column on column prest in close array, The dikes o'erflow, the flooded channels roar, Vexed ocean's foaming billows rock the shore: The Thunderer, thron'd in clouds, with darkness crown'd, The beasts are fled; earth rocks from pole to pole- Or Athos blazing 'mid eternal snow. The tempest darkens, blasts redoubled rave, Smite the hoarse wood, and lash the howling wave. Translation of W. SOTHEBY. TO THE RAINBOW. Through whose sparkling portals wide, Like Cheerfulness, thou art wont to gaze Always on the brightest blaze; Canst from setting suns deduce Varied gleams and sprightly hues; R. SOUTHEY, 1774-1850. THE WINDY NIGHT. Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the midnight tempests howl! With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune Through limbs that creek, They cry and flit, "Tu-whit! Tu-who!" like the solemn owl! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, Sweep the moaning winds amain, And wildly dash The elm and ash, Clattering on the window sash, With a clatter and patter, Like hail and rain, That well might shatter The dusky pane! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the tempests swell and roar! Though no foot is astir, Though the cat and the cur Lie dozing along the kitchen floor; There are feet of air On every stair! Through every hall Through each gusty door, There's a jostle and bustle, Like the meeting of guests at a festival! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the stormy tempests swell! And make the vane On the spire complain They heave at the steeple with might and main, |