« VorigeDoorgaan »
INDEX TO VOLUME CLV.
Adulteration in the Olden Time,
707 HUMOR, Analysis of
971 Heroine, The, of a Fishing Village, 126
823 Hermeneutics, Sacred, False Coin in 540
Baroness Helena von Saarfeld, Th 139 INDIAN Society,
JEWISH Tales and Jewish Reform, . 741
579 Literature, What makes it Popular, 595
Death, Shakespeare on
Eliot's, George, Children,
211 Maxwell, Professor Clerk
Erskine, Henry, and his Times,
PIRATES, Moslem, in the Mediterranean, 50 Shakespeare on Death,
376 Sorrento and Ischia, Six Weeks in. 493
509 | THEOLOGY, Natural, and Natural Selec-
Lost Love: a Lothian Tale,
VL Moslem PIRATES IN THE MEDITERRANEAN, Cornhill Magazine,
I salute thee, Mantovano, WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE MANTUANS
I that loved thee since my day began, FOR THE NINETEENTH CENTENARY OF VIR
Wielder of the stateliest measure GIL'S DEATH.
ever moulded by the lips of man. Nineteenth Century.
ALFRED TENNYSON. Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
TWO YEARS AFTER.
The winter morning as I write -
In the grim city's gloomy light,
Midst fogs that choke street, river, church, more than he that sang the Works and And the fast-falling flakes besmirch –
How pure o'er that far country-side
In my mind's eye I see it rolled
O'er stream-gashed glen and brambly wold; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and O'er wheat-sown slope and climbing lane, herd :
And ridge that bounds the battle plain; All the charm of all the Muses
And orchard, lawn, and garden sward often flowering in a lonely word; That same white raiment of the Lord !
The church stands on the woodland hill, Poet of the happy Tityrus
The pine-trees fence the churchyard still ;
Eastward it looks, that home of hers,
Whose name is breathed from brake and tree?
It raised our life to look upon ?
in the blissful years again to be, Shall spring-tide wake the world again, Summers of the snakeless meadow,
And summer light the eyes of men ?
The primrose star her hazel shade?
This icy mist, these clouds of gray,
Will they not all be wept away.
And western airs blow kindly through
Large lucid skies of tender blue ?
The hopes by death left desolate?
No shining angel brood above star that gildest yet this phantom shore; The sepulchre of human love? Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to rise no That brain of strength, that heart of fire, more ;
That liquid voice, a living lyre
Do not these vibrate, throb, and burn
Where the lost lights of time return?
fallen every purple Cæsar's dome - The aspiration, passion, power, Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm
That crowd with fate a mortal hour, sound forever of Imperial Rome - Are these crude seeds no bloom may bless,
Beginnings bright of emptiness?
Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd,
Love's shattered dream - shall it not rise and the Rome of freemen holds her Re-builded for immortal eyes? place,
Life's broken song end where round Him I, from out the Northern Island
Still quire the "young-eyed cherubim”? sunder'd once from all the human race, Macmillan's Magazine. JOSEPH TRUMAN.