H. M. Longfellow.

Born 1807.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, the first of American poets, was born at Portland, in Maine, in 1807. He studied at the Bowdoin College, Brunswick, of which he afterwards became one of the professors. He held this appointment till 1835, when he removed to his present professorship in Harvard College, Cambridge, U.S. In his early life Longfellow was a contributor of poems to the American periodicals. In 1833 he published in verse a translation of "Coplas de Manrique;" in 1835, "Outre Mer," and afterwards "Hyperion," in prose, both of which became exceedingly popular in America and Britain. In 1839 he published his first volume of poems, "Voices of the Night," which at once announced that a master poet had risen. In quick succession followed "Poems On Slavery," and "The Spanish Student;" and in 1847 "Evangeline," one of the most exquisite of all his poems. In 1849 he published "The Seaside and Fireside;" in 1851, "The Golden Legend;" in 1855, "Hiawatha ;" and in 1858, "Miles Standish," besides many shorter pieces which have become favourites in every household. In 1863 appearec "Tales of a Wayside Inn."

FROM "EVANGELINE."

AND with these words of cheer, they arose and continued their journey.

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizor Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape Twinkling vapours arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled togethe. Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness. Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her. Then, from a neighbouring thicket, the mocking-bird, wildest

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sie 1932 me gibm-edged clouds, All Z Shirship in the shrouds: var she Cades age and spray, wer the waders STAT. 30: Sway! Beyns fy.cn ere they part, Fit & sea bream of the heart! - the best pet sweeps by, Lab, and sustine on high— A 1 1114 mnd glow,

There he hears that are breaking below! Set in the waves-and the moon is on high, Sun Le & ven in the row of the sky, Daing as arcs a the power of her might, AM TURN DE dink as they pass her, to light! THE WE-seep e their breast,

Sees C the sto ke sand of rest!

Fric and a ne o the shadowy main,

Like & heart-clerstel bome on some desolate plain!
- ste s the sivery Eight.
Syreading her wings on the bosom of night,

Le me in the sky,

Aan fes-ard deem with a sigh,
TCNTs the mansion of sin,

AM SLS that are smitten Se barsting within!
VA.SIN VINDes her sletay gbling.
hemen.ers that are ster wave is dividing.
Jesus the sure a mi gih oli not sever,
Sars Fit & amel and broken for ever!

ams that he was add to the waves, The idlet fer de ng spirit's grave ! sus vale passes along, I sist stine and song! eue of the world.

and with canvas unfurled;

1 caress ani gory, a wandering eyes,

Te carred by sms, and frigated with sighs: ading sms se tect it wears,

As the suries w cover our tears: See this which the world cannot know. there exies be burning below,

that desolate shore

The soft and are vanished and o'er.

H. W. Longfellow.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, the first of American poeta was burs at Portland, in Maine, in 1807. He studied at the Bowdoin College, Bruas wick, of which he afterwards became one of the professors. He held this appointment till 1835, when he removed to his present professorabip in Harvard College, Cambridge, U.S. In his early life Longfellow was a contributor of poems to the American periodicals. In 1833 he pub lished in verse a translation of "Coplas de Manrique;" in 1835, “Outre Mer," and afterwards "Hyperion," in prose, both of which became excret ingly popular in America and Britain. In 1839 he pubished El Am volume of poems, "Voices of the Night," which at once antwonted that a master poet had risen. In quick succession followe -Puma 2 Slavery," and "The Spanish Student;" and in 1847 Evangeline* the of the most exquisite of all his poems. In 1849 he publated the Seaside and Fireside;" in 1851, "The Golden Legend;" in 1855, **k watha;" and in 1858, "Miles Standish," besides many shorter pisse which have become favourites in every household. In 1863 appear "Tales of a Wayside Inn."

AND with these words of cheer, they arose and contin their journey.

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizo Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape Twinkling vapours arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled togethe. Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetnes Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters aroun Then, from a neighbouring thicket, the mocking-bird, wilust

of singers,

Swinging aloft on a willow-spray that hung o'er the ware Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious 12 That the whole air and the woods and the wave d silent to listen.

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad! then, a madness,

Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied rate Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low laner

Till, having gathered them all, he flung then

derision,

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind throug

4

n

Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches.

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion,

Slowly they entered the Têche, where it flows through the green Opelousas,

And through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland, Saw the column of smoke, that arose from a neighbouring dwelling,

Scunds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattic.

A PSALM OF LIFE.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of T'ime

THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.

THERE is a reaper whose name is Death,

And with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he;
"Have nought but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
1 will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves !

It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,

Where He was once a child.

"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care;

And saints upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she should find them all agaiu
In the fields of light above.

Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

And took the flowers away.

HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS.

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER

"TAKE thy banner! May it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave,
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale;