XXVIII.

Lift me, O you, whose arms are young!
Lay me beneath yon broad oak's shade;
For now the noon-day sun grows strong,
Let not his rays my eyes invade.

XXIX.

Then wilt thou come, thou vision fair,
Oft mingled with the stars of night;
Scenes of my youth shall rise in air,
And times of manhood's active might.

XXX.

Shew to my soul the lovely maid,
Beneath the oak, the forest's pride;

XIX.

Be thou, with snowy plumage soft,
O swan! not far from my repose;
Even when I see thee soar aloft,
Thy parting strain will sooth my woes.

XX.

Tell from what distant land the wind
Bears on its wings the sound of woe —
Sure 'tis his voice, who left behind
His Love, to trace the realm of snow.

XXI.

Stream thy bright eyes, O virgin mild!
For him on L OCHLIN'S stormy coast

X.

Oh! wake the chace where I may hear
The hunter rouse th' impatient hounds;
Their voice is music to my ear,
My cheek glows youthful at the sound.

XI.

I feel youth's cheerful spirit rise,
To hear the bugle sound so shrill,
While triumph bursts in joyful cries,
Where sinks the dun deer on the hill.

XII.

Then quick I see the goats rebound,
That morn and eve my steps pursue;

TRANSLATION OF A GAELIC POEM COMPOSED IN THE ISLE OF SKY.

I.

O H ! lay me by yon peaceful stream
That glides away so softly slow,
Where boughs exclude the noon-day beam,
And early violets round me blow.

II.

And thou, O sun! with friendly eye
Regard my languid limbs of age;
While on the new spring grass they lie,
Their warmth restore, their pains assuage.

III.

Then on the pure stream's sloping side,

SCHERZO

Costly was the House of Pleasure,
Though it vanished swift away.
What was left of all the treasure
That within its chambers lay?
And the labor who may measure,
Though 'twas done by gnome and fay?

Years of practice make musicians,
Though their music last an hour;
And the mightiest magicians,
Who can form from clay a flower,
Take from life the stern conditions

THE PALACE OF LEARNING

Once more with Fancy's mystic eyes
We see a palace fair arise.
Its vast cyclopean groundwork tells
Of eons work, not magic spells.
Roll back the curtain and its plan
Is seen to be as old as man.

On Asia's plain it was begun
By Magians, children of the sun,
When o'er the skies serenely arched
The hosts of stars at midnight marched.
They built the towers, they toiled by night,
Men gifted with an inner sight.
They knew the powers of numbers then;
They cast the horoscopes of men.

17 — EPILOG

The poem is ended:
Its song-wings weak
For flight so splendid
To earth descended
Surcease must seek.

Over centuries flying
To cull out days
For never-dying,
Amaranth-vying
Coronals of bays;

To picture duly
This continent,
States settled newly
(Miracles, truly!),
Its vast extent;

To tell the story

THE massive monument to crown the Cape
Betwixt the ocean and the bay shall tower
Emblem sublime of Faith's transcendent power.
The passing ship; with alien crew agape,
Shall mark with joy its lofty imposing shape;
Its presence shall commemorate Freedom's flower;
'Twill stand serene in Tempest's darkest hour,
While chilling fogs its granite apex drape.

The whole wide land its heritage shall claim

Though we hope that the Epoch of Peace will arrive
When no war may disturb the immense human hive,
Yet can heart ever fail to beat fast with delight
When the fleet of the battleships breaks on the sight?

Those huge floating fortresses bristling with guns
That can hurl instant broadsides of tons upon tons
Of explosive steel shells with precision so swift
That not one fails the mark howe'er it may shift;

Their white painted walls and their turrets that turn,
Their curved simple lines from beaked prow round to stern,

SUNDAY

Some would bring back the Puritan Sunday,
Call it the Sabbath as if we were Jews,
Make it illegal to laugh on that one day,
Force all the people to flock to the pews,
Saturday night put secular things aside,
Stop all the wheels of carriage and train.
Such narrow bigotry recklessly flings aside
Much of three centuries marvellous gain.

Read how the Puritans, gloomy and canting,