All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, "Ah! when shall they all meet again?" As in the days long-since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply,— "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, Never-forever!" THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, DANTE. TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; Charlemagne may be called by pre-eminence the monarch of farmers. According to the German tradition, in seasons of great abundance his spirit crosses the Rhine on a golden bridge at Bingen, and blesses the corn-fields and the vineyards. During his lifetime, he did not disdain, says Montesquieu, "to ell the eggs from the farmyards of his domains, and the superfluous vegetables of his gardens; while he distributed among his people the wealth of the Lombards, and the immense treasures of the Huns,' And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers, "Peace!" THE EVENING STAR. Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus ! My morning and my evening star of love! And from thy darkened window fades the light. As one who, walking in the twilight gloom, So walking here, in twilight, O my friends! I hear your voices, softened by the distance, And pause, and turn to listen, as each sends His words of friendship, comfort, and assistance. If any thought of mine, or sung or told, Has ever given delight or consolation, Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown! Friends are around us, though no word be spoken. Kind messages, that pass from land to land; Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history, In which we feel the pressure of a hand, One touch of fire, -and all the rest is mystery! The pleasant books, that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces! Perhaps on earth I never shall behold, With eye of sense, your outward form and semblance; Therefore to me ye never will grow old, But live for ever young in my remembrance. Never grow old, nor change, nor pass away! Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, But the endeavour for the selfsame ends, With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations. Therefore I hope to join your seaside walk, Saddened, and mostly silent, with emotion; Not interrupting with intrusive talk The grand, majestic symphonies of ocean, Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest, At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, To have my place reserved among the rest, Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited! BY THE SEASIDE. THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP "BUILD me straight, O worthy Master! And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!" The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every Art. A quiet smile played round his lips, As the eddies and dimples of the tide That steadily at anchor ride. And with a voice that was full of glee, He answered, "Ere long we will launch A vessel as goodly, and strong, and staunch, And first with nicest skill and art, That with a hand more swift and sure And eight round towers, like those that frown |