Even the careless heart was moved, By the light they cannot hide, In the lap of sheltering seas In all voices known to her Nature own her worshiper, Half in triumph, half lament. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. TO HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27TH FEBRUARY, 1867. I NEED not praise the sweetness of his song, Where limpid verse to limpid verse succeeds Smooth as our Charles, when, fearing lest he wrong The new moon's mirrored skiff, he slides along, Full without noise, and whispers in his reeds. With loving breath of all the winds his name As I muse backward up the checkered years, Wherein so much was given, so much was lost, Blessings in both kinds, such as cheapen tearsBut hush! this is not for profaner ears; Let them drink molten pearls nor dream the cost. Some suck up poison from a sorrow's core, As naught but nightshade grew upon earth's ground; Love turned all his to heart's-ease, and the more Fate tried his bastions, she but forced a door, Leading to sweeter manhood and more sound. Even as a wind-waved fountain's swaying shade Seems of mixed race, a gray wraith shot with sun, So through his trial faith translucent rayed, A heart of sunshine that would fain o'errun. Surely if skill in song the shears may stay, And of its purpose cheat the charmed abyss, If our poor life be lengthened by a lay, He shall not go, although his presence may, And the next age in praise shall double this. Long days be his, and each as lusty-sweet BAYARD. [LIEUTENANT BAYARD WILKESON, commanding Battery G, Fourth U. S. Artillery, was mortally wounded by a cannon-ball in the first day's battle at Gettysburg. He had asked for water, and when they put into his hand a canteen filled with the scarce fluid, a mangled Connecticut soldier lying near cried, "Lieutenant, for God's sake, give me a drink." The dying officer passed the can teen untasted to the soldier, who drained it of its last drop. The hero, whose life was crowned by this act of chivalry, was only nineteen years of age. The Government honored itself by giving him three brevet promotions after death for gallantry in different actions.] BORNE by the soldiers he had led to battle On that ill-omened and disastrous day, Zetle cress' up quite unbeknowne An' peeked on thin the winder An' there sot Stulby all alone Such a paragon is woman That, you sed, it must be true The is always eastly better thaw the best that the can do!" "My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were For if I do not answer him questions three, knowne I never spend nothing, but what is my owne; "Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, My head will be smitten from my bodie. "The first is to tell him, there in that stead, "The seconde, to tell him without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about; And at the third question I must not shrinke, "And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this But tell him there truly what he does thinke." stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, "Secondly, tell me, without any doubt, "Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And Ile ride to London to answere your quarrel. Nay, frowne not, if it hath bin told unto me, I am like your lordship, as ever may be ; |