The very lowest of them all And bear a message home from God And thou may'st hear-as Adam heard When angels talked, at falling eve, The hallowing rush of spirit-wings, Truths such as guide the comet cars As through the cloud the star- The roses making low reply. For the meanest wild-bud breathes to swell, Upon immortal ears— So hear it, thou, in grove or dell !— The music of the spheres. 49.-AN OLD MAN'S IDYLL. RICHARD REALF. [Richard Realf was born at Uckfield, in Sussex, in 1835. His poetical talents attracting the attention of a lady at Brighton, in whose service he resided, she was induced to publish for him a volume of his poems, "Guesses at the Beautiful," by which he obtained some local repute. Since then he appears to have led a roving life; he was with John Brown at Harper's Ferry, was reported dead, returned to England, and after being seen at several places in his native county, suddenly disappeared.] By the waters of Life we sat together, Of the beautiful early summer weather, When skies were purple and breath was praise- By the rivers of Life we walked together, And lighter than any linnet's feather And love's sweet miracles o'er us threw A sound that seemed like a marriage chime. In the gardens of Life we strayed together, In the meadows of Life we strayed together, Our hearts, like the lambs, skipped to and fro. Who was with us, and what was round us, O the riches love doth inherit! Harms of the world have come unto us, Cups of sorrow we yet shall drain; But we have a secret which doth show us Wonderful rainbows in the rain. And we hear the tread of the years move by, And the sun is setting behind the hills; But my darling does not fear to die, And I am happy in what God wills. So we sit by our household fires together, 50.-GILDEROY, THOMAS CAMPBELL. [See page 195.] THE last, the fatal hour is come The bell has toll'd-it shakes my heart- To bear a death of shame ? No bosom trembles for thy doom, Oh! Gilderoy, bethought we then When first in Roslin's lovely glen You triumphed o'er my heart! Your locks they glittered to the sheen, And graceful was the ribbon green Ah! little thought I to deplore Ye cruel, cruel, that combined moor. A long adieu!—but where shall fly When every mean and cruel eye Yes, they will mock thy widow's tears, Then will I seek the dreary mound 51.-THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING. THE REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY. [The Rev. Charles Kingsley was born, 1819, at Holme Vicarage, near DartHe was educated at King's College, London, and Magdalene College, Cambridge. He abandoned the law for the Church, and became the rector of Eversley, Hampshire. His writings are very numerous, and include "The Saint's Tragedy," 1848; "Alton Locke," a novel, 1850; "Yeast, a Problem," 1851; "Westward Ho," a novel; Glaucus, or the Wonders of the Shore;" "Andromeda," and other poems (1858), &c. &c. He is the editor of "Macmillan's Magazine," and professor of Literature in Cambridge University. Still living.] THREE fishers went sailing out into the West, Out into the West as the sun went down; Each thought on the woman who loved him best, And the children stood watching them out of the town: Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And they trimm'd the lamps as the sun went down; Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, Three corpses lie out in the shining sands, In the morning gleam, as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands, For men must work, and women must weep, 52.-THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. GERALD GRIFFIN. [See page 153.] My darling, my darling, while silence is on the moor, Here, while on this cold shore, I wear out my lonely hours, They bear to the churchyard the youth in their health away, A My darling, my darling, God gave to my feeble age will complain. 53.-NAPOLEON'S MIDNIGHT REVIEW. AT midnight, from his grave, Stirred by his faithful arms, So grandly rolls that drum, Both they in farthest North |