From rose to red the level heaven burned; Then sudden, as if a sword fell from on high,

A blade of gold flashed on the horizon's rim.

THE SOWER.

I.

A SOWER went forth to sow,
His eyes were wild with woe;
He crushed the flowers beneath his feet,
Nor smelt the perfume, warm and sweet,
That prayed for pity everywhere.
He came to a field that was harried
By iron, and to heaven laid bare:
He shook the seed that he carried
O'er that brown and bladeless place.
He shook it, as God shakes hail
Over a doomed land,
When lightnings interlace
The sky and the earth, and his wand
Of love is a thunder-flail.

Thus did that Sower sow;
His seed was human blood,
And tears of women and men.
And I, who near him stood,
Said: When the crop comes, then
There will be sobbing and sighing,
Weeping and wailing and crying,
And a woe that is worse than woe.

II.

When next I went that way.
It was an autumn day
What was it that I heard?
And what, think you, did I see?

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The song of a sweet-voiced bird?
Thrilled through with praising prayer.
Nay, but the songs of many,

Were sad of memory:
Of all those voices not any

And a golden harvest glowed!
And a sea of sunlight flowed,

On my face I fell down there;
I hid my weeping eyes,

I said: O God, thou art wise!
And I thank thee, again and again,
For the Sower whose name is Fain.

WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.

THE DANCE.

(From "THE WITCH'S BALLAD.") O, I HAE come from far away,

From a warm land far away,
A southern land ayont the sea,
With sailor lads about the mast
Merry and canny and kind to me.

And I hae been to yon town,

To try my luck in yon town: Nort, and Mysie, Elspie too, Right braw we were to pass the gate Wi' gowden clasps on girdles blue.

Mysie smiled wi' miming mouth,

Innocent mouth, miming mouth; Elspie wore her scarlet gown, Nort's gray eyes were unco' gleg, My Castile comb was like a crown.

We walked abreast all up the street,

Into the market up the street: Our hair wi' marygolds was wound, Our bodices wi' love-knots laced, Our merchandise wi' tansy bound.

Nort had chickens, I had cocks,

Gamesome cocks, loud-crowing cocks; Mysie ducks, and Elspie drakes. For a wee groat or a pound,

We lost nae time wi' gives and takes.

Lost nae time, for weel we knew,

In our sleeves fu' weel we knew,
When the gloaming came that night,
Duck nor drake, nor hen nor cock,
Would be found by candlelight.

When our chaffering a' was done,
All was paid for, sold and done,
We drew a glove on ilka hand,
We sweetly curtsied each to each,
And deftly danced a saraband.

The market lasses looked and laughed,
Left their gear and looked and laughed;
They made as they would join the game,
But soon their mithers, wild and wud,
Wi' whack and screech they stopped the

same.

Sae loud the tongues o' raudies grew,
The flitin' and the skirlin' grew,
At a' the windows i' the place,
Wi' spoons and knives, wi' needle or awl,

Was thrust out ilka hand and face.

And down each stair they thronged anon;

Gentle, simple, thronged anon; Souter and tailor, frowzy Nan, The ancient widow young again Simpering behind her fan.

Without choice, against their will,

Doited, dazed against their will, The market lassie and her mither, The farmer and his husbandman, Hand in hand danced a' thegether.

Slow at first, but faster soon,

Still increasin' wild and fast, Hoods and mantles, hats and hose, Blindly doffed, and frae them cast, Left them naked, heads and toes.

They would hae torn us limb frae limb,
Dainty limb frae dainty timb;
But never ane o' them could win
Across the line that I had drawn
Wi' bleeding thumb a-witherskin.

There was Jeff the provost's son,
Jeff the provost's only son;
There was Father Auld himsel',
The Lombard frae the hostelrie,
And the lawyer Peter Fell.

All goodly men we singled out,
Waled them well and singled out,

And drew them by the left hand in, —
Mysie the priest, and Elspie won
The Lombard, Nort the lawyer curle,
And I my mysel' the provost's son.

Then wi' cantrip kisses seven,

Three times round wi' kisses seven,
Warped and woven there spun we,
Arms and legs and flaming hair,
Like a whirlwind on the sea.

Like the wind that sucks the sea,

Over and in and on the sea,
And ilka man o' all the four
Good sooth, it was a mad delight:
Shut his eyes and laughed outright,
Laughed as long as they had breath,

Laughed while they had sense or breath;
And close about us coiled a mist
Of gnats and midges, wasps and flies;
Like the whirlwind shaft it rist.

Drawn up was I right off my feet,

Into the mist and off my feet;
And, dancing on each chimney-top,
I saw a thousand darling imps
Keeping time wi' skip and hop.

We'll gang ance mair to yon town,
Wi' better luck to yon town:
We'll walk in silk and cramoisie,
And I shall wed the prevost's son;
My lady o' the town I'll be!

For I was born a crowned king's child,
Born and nursed a king's child,
King o' a land ayont the sea,
Where the Blackamoor kissed me first
And taught me art and glamourie.
The Lombard shall be Elspie's man,

Elspie's gowden husbandman;
Nort shall take the lawyer's hand;
The priest shall swear another vow.
We'll dance again the saraband!

JOSEPH BRENNAN.

COME TO ME, DEAREST.

COME to me, dearest, I'm lonely without thee,

Day-time and night-time, I'm thinking about thee;

behold thee;

Unwelcome the waking which ceases to

fold thee.

Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten,

Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten;

Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly,

Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy.

Swallows will fit round the desolate ruin,

Telling of spring and its joyous renewing

And thoughts of thy love, and its manifold treasure,

Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.

O Spring of my spirit, O May of my bosom, Shine out on my soul, till it bourgeon and blossom;

The waste of my life has a rose-root

within it.

love,

Himself a model for all living men:
A mirror and a pattern of the Past.

Now when the years of mourning with their rites

Were at an end, Confucius came forth And wandered as of old with other men, Giving his counsel unto many kings; But still the hand of grief was on his heart,

And his dark hue set forth his darkened hours.

To

drive away these sorrows from his soul,

Nor rested till he stood before the man.

Thus spoke Siang unto Confucius:
"Of all the arts, great Music is the art
To raise the soul above all earthly storms;
For in it lies that purest harmony
Which lifts us over self and up to
God.

Thou who hast studied deeply the KouaThe eight great symbols of created things

Knowest the sacred power of the line Which when unbroken flies to all the worlds

As light unending, but in broken forms Falls short as sky and earth, clouds, winds, and fire,

The deep blue ocean and the mountain high,

And the red lightning hissing in the wave. The mighty law which formed what thou canst see,

As clearly lives in all that thou canst hear,

And more than this, in all that thou canst feel.

Here, take thy lute in hand. I teach the air

Made by the sage Wen Wang of ancient days."

Confucius took the lute and played the air

Till all his soul seemed passing into song;

Then he fell deep into the solemn chords As though his body and the lute were

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he said:

"Not yet, my master, I would seize the

thought,

Unto Siang thus spoke Confucius: "I do begin to see, yet what I see Is very dim. I am as one who looks And nothing sees except a luminous cloud:

Give me but five more days, and at the end

If I have not attained the great idea
Hidden of old within the melody,

I will leave music as beyond my power."
"Do as thou wilt, O pupil!" cried Siang
In deepest admiration; "never yet
Had I a scholar who was like to thee."

And on the fifteenth day Confucius rose And stood before Siang, and cried aloud: "The mist which shadowed me is blown away,

I am as one who stands upon a cliff
And gazes far and wide upon the world,
For I have mastered every secret thought,
Yea, every shadow of a feeling dim
Which flitted through the spirit of Wen
Wang

When he composed that air. I speak to him,

I hear him clearly answer me again;
And more than that, I see his very form:
A man of middle stature, with a hue
Half blended with the dark and with the
fair;

His features long, and large sweet eyes which beam

With great benevolence, -a noble face!
His voice is deep and full, and all his air
Inspires a sense of virtue and of love.
I know that I behold the very man,
The sage of ancient days, Wen Wang the
just."

Then good Siang lay down upon the dust, And said: "Thou art my master. Even thus

The ancient legend, known to none but

me,

Describes our first great sire. And thou hast seen

Striving with all my soul to penetrate Its mystery unto the master's form,, Whilst thou hast reached it at a single bound:

Henceforth the gods alone can teach thee tune."

MINE OWN.

AND O, the longing, burning eyes!
And O, the gleaming hair
Which waves around me, night and day,
O'er chamber, hall, and stair!

And O, the step, half dreamt, half heard!
And O, the laughter low!
And memories of merriment
Which faded long ago!

O, art thou Sylph,

-or truly Self, —
Or either at thy choice?
O, speak in breeze or beating heart,
But let me hear thy voice!

"O, some do call me Laughter, love;
And some do call me Sin":-
"And they may call thee what they will,
So I thy love may win.

"And some do call me Wantonness, And some do call me Play" :"O, they might call thee what they would If thou wert mine alway!"

"And some do call me Sorrow, love,

And some do call me Tears, And some there be who name me Hope, And some that name me Fears.