CHARLES JEFFERYS. 1807-1865.

Come o'er the moonlit sea,

The waves are brightly glowing.

The Moonlit Sea.

The morn was fair, the skies were clear,

No breath came o'er the sea.

The Rose of Allandale.

Meek and lowly, pure and holy,

Chief among the "blessed three."

Charity.

Come, wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright On river and forest, o'er mountain and lea.

A word in season spoken

May calm the troubled breast.

Come, wander with me.

A Word in Season.

The bud is on the bough again,

The leaf is on the tree. The Meeting of Spring and Summer.

I have heard the mavis singing

Its love-song to the morn;
I've seen the dew-drop clinging
To the rose just newly born.

We have lived and loved together

Mary of Argyle.

Through many changing years;
We have shared each other's gladness,
And wept each other's tears.

We have lived and loved together.

LADY DUFFERIN. 1807-1867.

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,

Where we sat side by side.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But oh they love the better still

The few our Father sends !

Ibid.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 1807-1882.

(From the edition of 1886.)

Look, then, into thine heart, and write!1

Voices of the Night. Prelude.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.2

Life is real! life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,

8

A Psalm of Life.

And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still like muffled drums are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.*

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for
Still achieving, still pursuing,

any fate;

5

Learn to labour and to wait.

1 See Philip Sidney, page 34.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

2 Things are not always what they seem. - PHEDRUS: Fables, book iv. Fable 2.

8 See Chaucer, page 6.

Art is long, life is short. — GOETHE: Wilhelm Meister, vii. 9.

4 Our lives are but our marches to the grave.-BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: The Humorous Lieutenant, act iii. sc. 5.

5 See Byron, page 553.

There is a reaper whose name is Death,1
And with his sickle keen
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

The hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.

Ibid.

Flowers.

Midnight Mass.

No tears

Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.

Sunrise on the Hills.

No one is so accursed by fate,

No one so utterly desolate,

But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own.

For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
There are no birds in last year's nest ! 2

Endymion.

It is not always May.

Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

The Rainy Day.

1 There is a Reaper whose name is death. ARNIM AND BRENTANO: Erntelied. (From "Des Knaben Wunderhorn," ed. 1857, vol. i. p. 59.) 2 Never look for birds of this year in the nests of the last. - CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. lxxiv.

The prayer of Ajax was for light.1

The Goblet of Life.

O suffering, sad humanity!
O ye afflicted ones, who lie
Steeped to the lips in misery,
Longing, yet afraid to die,
Patient, though sorely tried!

Standing with reluctant feet
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet!

O thou child of many prayers!
Life hath quicksands; life hath snares!
She floats upon the river of his thoughts.2

Ibid.

Maidenhood.

Ibid.

The Spanish Student. Act ii. Sc. 3.

A banner with the strange device.

This is the place. Stand still, my steed,

Let me review the scene,

And summon from the shadowy past
The forms that once have been.

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles the rain.

Excelsior.

A Gleam of Sunshine.

The Day is done.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

1 The light of Heaven restore;
Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.

2 See Byron, page 553.

Ibid.

Ibid.

POPE: The Iliad, book xvii. line 730.

Sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,

With all the hopes of future years,

Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

The Building of the Ship.

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, -
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee, are all with thee!

The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.

Ibid.

The Fire of Drift-wood.

There is no flock, however watched and tended,

But one dead lamb is there;

There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair.

The air is full of farewells to the dying,

And mournings for the dead.

But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.

Resignation.

Ibid.

Ibid.

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps.

Ibid.

In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care

Each minute and unseen part;

For the gods see everywhere.

This is the forest primeval.

The Builders.

Evangeline. Part i.