"AND OTHERS' FOLLIES TEACH US NOT, NOR MUCH THEIR WISDOM TEACHES;-(TENNYSON

PASSIONLESS Bbride, divine tranquillity,—(TENNYSON)

ALFRED TENNYSON.

THE SHELL.

EE what a lovely shell,
Small and pure as a pearl,

Lying close to my foot;
Frail, but a work divine,
Made so fairily well

With delicate spire and whorì,
How exquisitely minute,
A miracle of design!

What is it? A learnèd man
Could give it a clumsy name.
Let him name it who can,
The beauty would be the same.

The tiny cell is forlorn,
Void of the little living will
That made it stir on the shore.
Did he stand at the rainbow door
Of his house in a rainbow frill?
Did he push, when he was uncurled,
A golden foot or a fairy horn
Through his dim water-world?

Slight, to be crushed with a tap
Of my finger-nail on the sand,
Small, but a work divine,
Frail, but of force to withstand,
Year upon year, the shock
Of cataract seas that snap
The three-decker's oaken spine
Athwart the ledges of rock,
Here on the Breton strand!

[From "Maud," Part ii., 2.]

YEARNED AFTER BY THE WISEST OF THE WISE."-TENNYSON.

AND MOST, OF STERLING WORTH, IS WHAT OUR OWN EXPERIENCE PREACHES."-TENNYSON.

HAVE BEEN BUT IN THE LONGING OF MAN'S HEART, NOT THESE NOW OCCUPY OUR HEARTS AND HOPES;

"NO FABLED WORLD, IMAGINED ISLES BEYOND

HYMN TO OCEAN.

471

Richard Chenebix Trench.

[RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin, was born in 1807; graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1829; took orders, and accepted the incumbency of Cambridge in Hampshire; was promoted, in 1845, to the rectory of Itchin Stoke; in 1845 and 1846, officiated at Cambridge as Hulsean Lecturer; became Professor of Theology at King's College, London, in 1847; was appointed Dean of Westminster in 1856; and Archbishop of Dublin in 1864. His devotional and theological works are very numerous: the most important are, "Notes on the Parables," "Notes on the Miracles," and "Studies from the Gospels." As a philologist he has also obtained distinction, and his treatises on The Study of Words" and "English Past and Present" are deservedly popular.

He first appeared as a poet, in 1838, with two volumes of poetry, entitled, Sabbation, Honor Neale, and Other Poems." These have been followed by the "Story of Justin Martyr," Genoveva," "Elegiac Poems," and

"Poems from Eastern Sources."

"

When we gaze into a clear translucent pool, says Dr. Moir, and observe distinctly the sand, shells, and pebbles at the bottom, we are apt to form a very erroneous estimate of its depth. It is often so with Trench's poetry, where the profound seems to assume the disguise of the simple and unadorned. That he is something of a mannerist is not to be disputed, but seldom disagreeably so, from a classical eagerness, an over-fastidious anxiety to give his phrases their highest polish; so from his earliest poems down to his latest, his course towards compositional excellence has been steady and evident.]

BUT EDEN AND THE NEW JERUSALEM, THE GARDEN AND THE CITY OF OUR GOD."-RICHARD C. TRENCH.

HYMN TO OCEAN.

FROM THE GERMAN OF RÜCKERT.

CRADLE, whence the suns ascend, old Ocean divine;
O grave, whereto the suns descend, old Ocean divine:

O! spreading in the calm of night thy mirror, wherein
The Moon her countenance doth bend, old Ocean divine.

O thou that dost in midnights still thy chorus of waves
With dances of the planets blend, old Ocean divine:

THE LIMITARY OCEAN, SUCH AS NEVER-(TRENCH)

"A GENIAL MOMENT OFT HAS GIVEN WHAT YEARS OF TOIL AND PAIN,-(TRENCH)

472

THOUGH WE CANNOT CEASE TO YEARN OR GRIEVE,-(TRENCH)

RICHARD CHENE VIX TRENCH.

The morning and the evening blooms are roses of thine,
Two roses that for thine are kenned, old Ocean divine.

O Amphitrite's panting breast, whose breathing doth make
The waves to fall and ascend, old Ocean divine.

O womb of Amphitrite, hear thy beautiful child,
Abroad thy glory to commend, old Ocean divine.

YET WE HAVE LEARNED IN PATIENCE TO ABIDE."-TRENCH.

OF LONG INDUSTRIOUS TOIL, HAVE STRIVEN TO WIN, AND ALL IN VAIN."-TRENCH.

JOY IS OF GOD, BUT HEAVINESS AND CARE (RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH)

O! sprinkle thou with pearly dew Earth's garland of spring,
For only thou hast pearls to spend, old Ocean divine.

All Naiads that from thee had sprung, commanded by thee,
Back to thy Nereid-dances tend, old Ocean divine.

What ships of thought sail forth on thee! Atlantis doth sleep
In silence at thine utmost end, old Ocean divine.

The goblets of the gods, from high Olympus that fall,
Thou dost on coral boughs suspend, old Ocean divine.

A diver in the sea of love my song is, that fain
Thy glory would to all commend, old Ocean divine.

I, like the Moon, beneath thy waves with yearning would
plunge;

Thence might I like the sun ascend, old Ocean divine.

[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

"IF THAT IN SIGHT OF GOD IS GREAT WHICH COUNTS ITSELF FOR SMALL,

WE, BY THAT LAW, HUMILITY THE CHIEFEST GRACE MUST CALL."-TRENCH.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

JOLE star that glitterest in the crimson west,
Fair child of beauty, glorious lamp of love,
How cheerfully thou lookest from above,
With what unblinking eye and jocund crest,
Yet grief from thee hast past into my breast,

For all surpassing glory needs must be

Full unto us of sad perplexity,

Seen from this place of sin and sin's unrest.

Yea, all things which such perfect beauty own
As this of thine is, tempt us into tears;

OF OUR OWN HEARTS, AND WHAT HAS HARBOURED there."-TRENCH.

For whether thou sole-sittest on thy throne,
Or leadest choral dances of thy peers,

Thou and all nature, saving man alone,
Fulfil with music sweet your Maker's ears.
[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

TIME WAS, AND HE WHO NOURISHED CROWDS WITH BREAD WOULD NOT ONE MEAL UNTO HIMSELF AFFORD:

AUTUMN.

HINE, Autumn, is unwelcome lore-
To tell the world its pomp is o'er :

To whisper in the Rose's ear
That all her beauty is no more;

And bid her own the faith how vain,
Which Spring to her so lately swore.

A queen deposed, she quits her state:
The nightingales her fall deplore;

The hundred-voiced bird may woo
The thousand-leafèd flower no more.
The jasmine sinks her head in shame-
The sharp east wind its tresses shore;
And robbed, in passing, cruelly
The tulip of the crown it wore.
The lily's sword is broken now,
That was so bright and keen before :
And not a blast can blow, but strews
With leaf of gold the Earth's dank floor.

The piping winds sing Nature's dirge,
As through the forest bleak they roar ;

WHO SOMETIMES HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD:

OH, SELF-DENYING LOVE, WHICH FELT ALONE FOR NEEDS OF OTHERS, NEVER FOR ITS OWN."-TRENCH.