How lightly then it flashed along! Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide: Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in't together. Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; O, the joys, that came down shower-like, Ere I was old? Ah, woeful ere, It cannot be that thou art gone: This drooping gate, this altered size, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes: SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. SECLUDED BEAUTY. (From "Lalla Rookh.") H what a pure and sacred thing Is Beauty, curtained from the sight Of the gross world, illumining One only mansion with her light! Unseen by man's disturbing eye, MUSIC. USIC is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the Infinite; we look for moments, across the cloudy elements, into the eternal sea of light, when song leads and inspires us. Serious nations, all nations that can still listen to the mandate of nature, have prized song and music as the highest; as a vehicle for worship, for prophecy, and for whatsoever in them was divine. Their singer was a vates, admitted to the council of the universe, friend of the gods, and choicest benefactor to man. THOMAS CARLYLE. SONG OF STEAM. The world, the world is mine: JARNESS me down with your iron bands, The rivers the sun hath earliest blessed, Be sure of your curb and rein; For I scorn the power of your puny hands, As the tempest scorns a chain; Or those where his last beams shine, How I laughed as I lay concealed from sight The ocean pales where'er I sweep, For many a countless hour, At the childish boast of human might, When I saw an army upon the land, Or waiting the wayward breeze; As he feebly turned the tardy wheel, To hear my strength rejoice; Cower, trembling, at my voice. I carry the wealth and the lord of earth, The wind lags after my going forth, In the darksome depths of the fathomless mine, My tireless arm doth play; Where the rocks never saw the sun decline, When I measured the panting courser's speed, I bring earth's glittering jewels up The flight of the carrier-dove, As they bore the law a king decreed, Or the lines of impatient love; I could not but think how the world would feel, As these were outstripped afar, From the hidden caves below, I blow the bellows, I forge the steel, When I should be bound to the rushing keel, I hammer the oar, and turn the wheel, Or chained to the flying car. Ha! Ha! Ha! they found me at last; And I rushed to my throne with a thunder- And laughed in my iron strength. Oh, then ye saw a wondrous change On the earth and the ocean wide, Where now my fiery armies range, Nor wait for wind or tide. Hurrah! hurrah! the waters o'er, The mountain's steep decline, Where thy arms of strength are made; I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint; And all my doings I put into print On every Saturday eve. I've no muscle to weary, no breast to decay, While I manage this world by myself. For I scorn the power of your puny hands, GEORGE WASHINGTON CUTTER. |