She turns away; her eyes are dim with tears; | The naked shape of man there saw I plain, Her mother's blessing lingers in her ears: All save the flesh, the sinew and the vein.

And songs of star-browed seraphim in- Famine and fire he held, and there

sphered,

That ebbed unto that sea without a shore,
Leaving vast awe and silence to adore;
But still methinks I hear the dying strain:

withal

He razèd towns, and threw down towers and all.

"The crooked straight, and the rough places Cities he sacked, and realms that whilom plain !"

FREDERICK TENNYSON.

flowered

In honor, glory and rule above the rest
He overwhelmed, and all their fame de-

voured,

Consumed, destroyed, wasted, and never

ceased

Till he their wealth, their name and all

oppressed;

His face forehewed with wounds, and by his

side

Against whose force in vain it is to fight: There hung his targe with gashes deep and

From morn till evening's sweeter pastime Nor far some Andalusian saraband

Would echo flageolet from some romantic Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,

Then, where of Indian hills the daylight Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor, And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar?

That fired his Highland blood with mickle | Familiar in thy bosom-scenes of life?

glee;

And England sent her men, of men the chief,

Who taught those sires of empire yet to be To plant the tree of life, to plant fair Freedom's tree.

Here was not mingled in the city's pomp
Of life's extremes the grandeur and the
gloom;

Judgment awoke not here her dismal tromp,
Nor sealed in blood a fellow-creature's
doom,

Nor mourned the captive in a living tomb. One venerable man, beloved of all,

Sufficed, where innocence was yet in
bloom,

Το
sway the strife that seldom might befall,
And Albert was their judge in patriarchal
hall.

How reverend was the look, serenely aged,
He bore, this gentle Pennsylvanian sire,
Where all but kindly fervors were as-
suaged,

Undimmed by weakness' shade or turbid

ire!

And though, amidst the calm of thought

entire,

And dwells in daylight truth's salubrious skies

No form with which the soul may sym

Some high and haughty features might MY spirit, be thou me, impetuous one!

betray

A soul impetuous once, 'twas earthly fire
That fled composure's intellectual ray,
As Etna's fires grow dim before the rising
day.

I boast no song in magic wonders rife,

Drive my dead thoughts over the uni

verse

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth,
And by the incantation of this verse
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among man-
kind;

Be through my lips to unawakened earth.

But yet, O Nature, is there naught to The trumpet of a prophecy.

prize

PERCY B. SELLEY.

SELECTIONS FROM "SHIRLEY."