On Helle's sea the light grew dim
As the last sounds of that sweet hymn
Floated along its azure tide —
Floated in light as if the lay
Had mixt with sunset's fading ray
And light and song together died.
So soft thro' evening's air had breathed
That choir of youthful voices wreathed
In many-linked harmony,
That boats then hurrying o'er the sea
Paused when they reached this fairy shore,
And lingered till the strain was o'er.

Of those young maids who 've met to fleet

SONG

When evening shades are falling
O'er Ocean's sunny sleep,
To pilgrims' hearts recalling
Their home beyond the deep;
When rest o'er all descending
The shores with gladness smile,
And lutes their echoes blending
Are heard from isle to isle,
Then, Mary, Star of the Sea,
We pray, we pray, to thee!

The noon-day tempest over,
Now Ocean toils no more,

Scarce had they closed this martial lay
When, flinging their light spears away,
The combatants, in broken ranks,
All breathless from the war-field fly;
And down upon the velvet banks
And flowery slopes exhausted lie,
Like rosy huntresses of Thrace,
Resting at sunset from the chase.

" Fond girls! " an aged Zean said —
One who himself had fought and bled,
And now with feelings half delight,
Half sadness, watched their mimic fight —
" Fond maids! who thus with War can jest —

How changingly for ever veers
The heart of youth 'twixt smiles and tears!
Even as in April the light vane
Now points to sunshine, now to rain.
Instant this lively lay dispelled
The shadow from each blooming brow,
And Dancing, joyous Dancing, held
Full empire o'er each fancy now.
But say — what shall the measure be?
" Shall we the old Romaika tread, "
(Some eager asked) " as anciently
" 'T was by the maids of Delos led,

A silence followed this sweet air,
As each in tender musing stood,
Thinking, with lips that moved in prayer,
Of Sappho and that fearful flood:
While some who ne'er till now had known
How much their hearts resembled hers,
Felt as they made her griefs their own,
That they too were Love's worshippers.
At length a murmur, all but mute,
So faint it was, came from the lute
Of a young melancholy maid,

FIRST EVENING

" The sky is bright — the breeze is fair,
" And the mainsail flowing, full and free —
" Our farewell word is woman's prayer,
" And the hope before us — Liberty!
" Farewell, farewell.
" To Greece we give our shining blades,
" And our hearts to you. young Zean Maids!

" The moon is in the heavens above,

PART XII.

There are three Powers that rule mankind, time, life,
And circumstance, on whose material shrines
We sacrifice ourselves. There is no good
Sent forth by them without the attendant ill
Its following shadow; and no wrong but brings
Awarding retribution, that ungrasped
By the quick hand and ever-watchful eye
Is lost for ever. Chance no substance owns,
Which is necessity.
Great Day came forth,
And the sun looked upon the rolling world.
Again that grey and antique hall, awaked

PART XI.

Joy lives within the halls of the great Earl;
The massive portals closed erewhile, are thrown
Open to feasting and to revelry.
The grass-grown areas and corridors,
Where the weeds bristled in rebellious strife,
Are tenanted again with life and mirth.
Years lapsed are dead, joy lives but in the hour.
That grey and antique mansion that had slept
Now basks in luxury of light. The eyes
Of the dark casements are expanded, bright
With joyous flowers and laughing faces thronged;

PART X.

Sublimest heroism emanates
From virtue only, all else fitful is;
Passion or impulse triumphing in things
Forgotten or outlived. The brightest gem
Is perseverance in her dazzling crown
To suffer and be silent still is great;
But to contend with wordless agony,
To feel the drops of disappointment fall
Chilling the heart; to mark the whitening hair,
The throbbings of faint hope beneath the dust
Cast over it of cold forgetfulness,
Which is oblivion; still to persevere

There is a ray of stationary light
That shines on earth, less human than divine,
Calm, though allied with elements perturbed;
There is a Spirit ministrant on man,
That moulds his loftiest purposes to form,
Or gentle or heroic, that instils
Into his life the feeling of her own;
Watcher of griefs, beside the couch of pain
Presiding still; a comforter to hearts
Stricken with suffering, the nurse of hope
Whose cradle is her soul. All virtues rise
From her; love, faith, and meek-eyed charity.
Angels, those messengers of grace from heaven,