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II.

Where is the assessor? where is the weigher ? * | The cragsy shore of a capacious stream: where is he that counted the towers ? †

And lo! the Promised Land before them lay Thou seest no more the fierce people, the All in a golden sunset, whose last gleam people of a dark speech that thou canst not | Reveal'd between the rovers and their rest perceive, of a stammering tongue that thou No barrier save that river's bridgeless breast. canst not understand. I

Look upon Zion, the city of our solemnities; thine eye shall see Jerusalem a quiet habita- Each sufferer, sick and footsore from the waste, tion, a tabernacle that shall not be taken down; Hail'd with reviving hope the blissful sight. not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be re- About the river-beach they pitch'd in haste moved, neither shall any of the cords thereof Their evening tents, and roam'd in dreams all be broken.

night

The Land of Promise. At the dawn, however, Then the note of Immanuel joins the The signal trumpet sounded, summoning note of The remnant shall return, and is The tribe to council. For that rock-bound blended with it:

river But there the glorious Lord will dwell with Was broad, and deep, and rapid. The first us ; a place of broad rivers and streams, where; On which their pilgrim parliament decided

thing in'shall go no galley with oars, neither shall Was to preserve intact, to a community gallant ship pass thereby. For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our The necessary strength of social unity.

Whose best opinions might be much divided, lawgiver, the Lord is our king; he will save us ! | And so it ruled that they should all agree

Yet once more the note to remind of To recognize as final the authority Spoil specdeth and of “the terror," - fin Of whatsoever plan might chance to be ishing and merged, however, in the notes Adopted by the vote of the majority. of victory :

III. Thy || tacklings are loosed; they hold not Scarce was this salutary rule laid down, firm their mast, they keep not spread the sail; Ere one brisk leader of the emigration but then is the prey of a great spoil s divided ! (Whose dauntless spirit was to all well known) the lame take the prey !

Sprang forward with a shout of exultation; And the inhabitant shall not say: I am sick! And, from the shoulder of the stony shore the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven Pointing where every gaze instinctive turn’d, their iniquity.

Brothers,” he cried, “ procrastinate no more!

The Promised Land, long arduously earn’d, Of this fine chapter the rendering in Before us lies. Why linger, then, ihe brave? our Bibles is often inaccurate, and I have What need of projects and of plans ? To me had to alter it. But I have altered it as Nature hard muscles and a man's heart gave, little as I possibly could, and I should Nor need I more to grasp the good I see. rejoice if the reader happily failed to no- Forward! Who follows? Fate befriends the tice that I had altered it at all. No;

bold !” decidedly the revisers must not hope to Without a pause he plunged into the wave

That 'twixt the wanderers and their wishes make us enjoy Isaiah by giving us as a

roll'd; rendering of him: For every boot of him

And, after him, to glory or the grave, that trampleth noisily.

The younger pilgrims rush'd.
MATTHEW ARNOLD.

IV. * Of the tribute paid to Assyria.

A cry arose, t In order to besiege them.

“Rash fools, restrain this mad enthusiasm ! The Assyrians spoke a Semitic dialect not intel- | Behold with what enthusiastic blows ligible to the Hebrews.

Ş No earthly waters, but the river of the peace of God. The battering current grinds its granite chasm! li To Judah.

What to its pitiless waves can you oppose ? 1 Of the retreating Assyrians.

Your numbers? They outnumber you. Your

will?
The water's will is wilder than your own.
Your energy? More energetic still

Is the tremendous drift that drags you down.
From The Nineteenth Century, Rest in the rear when ruin's in the van,
THE LAND OF PROMISE: A FABLE, Reflect, return, renounce. Alas, too late!”
BY LORD LYTTON.

v. He who said this was an old grey-hair'd man.

His voice was answer'd by resentful cries, A PILGRIM FOLK, o'er leagues of pathless sand“ Pedant, and craven-hearted renegate, Long journeying patiently from far away, Preach not to us thy croaking homilies ! Lured by the promise of a fairer land,

Farewell to those who fear, and those who Reach'd ere the close of one eventful day

wait!

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« Let us

Progress is prudence ! ”

Have we seen perishing the brave, the bold,

Save the river's roar, The young, the beautiful, who sought in vain The elders of the tribe (with prescient faces, That better land. The selfish and the old, Gazing aghast, and listening) heard no more ; Who, to augment our wretchedness, remain, But saw, still saw, in the fierce stream's em Now on our faint and weaken’d faith have laid braces,

A heavier burden. What have we to gain Here a wild arm, and there a whirling head, By laboring longer? And what right have they And then — the heaving of the funeral pall To disregard the rule themselves have made ? By the grim, bleak, implacable river spread Let them make good their promise. To obey Over the grave of an ideal.

'Tis now their turn, and ours to be obey'd,

For we are the majority. Whate'er
VL

The yet unpeopled Land of Promise be,
All

One thing, at least, is certain : everywhere
Were husht with horror. In the silence said The wretchedest are the most numerous, We
That old grey-headed watcher of the tide, Are both: nor need we any further fare
“Friends, let us mourn for the untimely dead, To find a refuge from the ills we flee.
Whom impulse fair, with precept false allied After life, death; and after labor, sleep:
And inexperience, to their doom hath led. They do but live to toil who toil to live.
They err'd in seeking, but they sought, the One gift, whose promise earth is bound to
truth;

keep, And we shall miss the force their fervor caught This soil, tho' niggard, to the spade will give From full hear!s glowing with the fire of As soon as any other, and as cheap; youth.

Life's goal, a grave.”
That generous warmth, alas, no longer ours,
We must replace by clear, if frigid, thought,

IX.
And toil that trains for triumph temperate

He turn'd upon his heel, powers.

Follow'd by many.

The remaining few Yon ravenous and remorseless element

Began to build. In accents low and grave Us from our promised rest doth still divide. "What, without us, would be the common. Let us, O friends, some dexterous dyke invent

weal? To curb the current or divert the tide.

Mere common woe,” they murmur'd. A faithless and a formidable foe

save, We have to deal with. No concessions vile, In spite of its own self, society." No haste incautious! Grudge not labor slow. And slow they rear'd, with unimpetuous zeal, Complete the plan ere you begin the pile. Rock-shoulder'd ramparts, fencing flood-gates To work !"

high,

And sluices deep.
VII.
These words evoked but faint applause.
A few men to the speaker's side drew near,

“Astray is all your skill,
And grasp'd his hand, after a thoughtful pause, Nor ever will the work you do succeed !”
In silence; scorning by a single cheer A meagre mocking voice exclaim'd one day.
To recognize the Passions as allies

It was a little, thin, dry, crooked man, Of Reason's coldly calculated cause.

Who had from the assembly stolen away, Small was their number, but they seem'd the When first the feud 'twixt young and old began, wise.

And now, as furtively, return'd. “I know Meanwhile, from out the masses in the rear That river. It is mischievous and mad : A man stepp'd forward. His broad back was But there's some good in it, if you knew how bow'd,

To make the best of what is not all bad. His form misshapen, like a wither'd oak Your dyke anon the rising flood will break, With strong limbs warp'd and naked. To the And deluge all.” They answer’d, “Other crowd,

dykes Whence he had issued, bitterly he spoke : If needed, other sluices, we will make :

The stream rolls where it must, not where it VIII.

likes.” "Surely enough of perils and privations, “'Twill roll where you will like its rolling less. Of trust betray'd, and labor lost, enough, You do not understand its nature. Hark! And hopes deferr’d, whose fraudulent invita. No longer strive to oppose it, or repress. tions

I know a better system : follow it.” Lengthen the road they never leave less rough ! “ What is thy system?”. I will build a Dupe us no more. Foot-wearied fools we are, bark" Worn out with unrewarded agitations

“And shipwreck all! These plunging whirlIn running after rest. Still, near or far,

pools split The land we seek our cheated search belies. Our stoutest planks to splinters. Noë's ark Because it was a miserable land

With such a cataract would in vain have vied. We left our own; yet nought but miseries It is a foe to vanquish, if we can, We found elsewhere, a miserable band ! And not a friend to whom we can confide And miserably here beneath our eyes

Aught that we love."

X.

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As easily as if it were mankind : The little crooked man Making its strength his own, and profiting With a low laugh to this reply replied

By forces it had been his luck to find “Ay, 'tis a foe whom, for that very reason,

Contending with each other to be king You should conciliate till his forces blind While he enslaved them slily — wave and wind. (By craft beguiled to salutary treason)

But when at last they reach'd, and overran, Subvert his stupid power. I have divined

The Eldorado of their lifelong dream, The river's secret. If you try my plan,

Unfit for their good-fortune proved the clan I guarantee success - on one condition,

Of covetous adventurers that stream Make me your leader.” “Impudent 'charla. (In turn betraying its betrayers) led tan,'

To their destruction. Vagabonds they were, (They laugh’d, at that presumptuous proposi. Who loved not labor and who lack'd not tion)

bread: We know you for a rogue in deed and word. Each to the other grudged his lawless share Make you our leader? Things are not yet Of promised plunder, till the land was red there.

With its invaders' blood. Their leader sly We'll make you nothing but one gift — a cord: (True to his principles) employ'd his skill Take it, and go and hang yourself elsewhere !" To govern by dividing them. Thereby

He ruled and ruin'd them with ease ; until XII.

At last the sick survivors of the strife, Those honest and most honorable men

Taught by experience, recognized the source

Of all the shameful troubles of his life
In saying this said only what was true.
The man was all they said of him. But then

In that shrewd trick of setting up one force The man was also something more (and knew

To set another down, and playing class That he was something more) which miss'a Forever against class. Their chief found out their ken,

That what he thought could never come to pass For he was clever. Smiling, he withdrew.

He had himself contrived to bring about Meanwhile, the dyke went forward painfully;

A populace united : and its mass For, as its bulwarks broaden'd day by day,

The populace uniting against him, T'he stream's resentful waters rose more high; | Where he was lost, not knowing how to swim,

It Aung him, head and heels, into the river ; And their uprisings sonetimes wash'd away The best contrivances opposed to them.

Though he knew how to sail.

XV.
XIII.

Vain each endeavor !
One morn the foil'd foundation-makers spied They who, to reach the Promised Land, relied
A vessel throng'd with folk from stern to stem; On fervid impulse, passionately perish'd
Slant was her course athwart the strenuous At the first plunge.' The wretches who denied
tide,

Its pitying promise, cheerless, and uncherish'd And sloping, tugg'd by tumid sails, she went. Even by the lost tradition of it, died. Safe to the wisht-for shore the strong winds Some labor'd for it, and their labor lost, blew,

Though long and patiently they labor'd. They Safe to the wisht-for shore the turbulent Perchance were those who merited it most; But trusted waters their subduer drew;

But then, their way was a mistaken way, And with a shout, as on its pleasant strand And they persisted in it. The vile host They lightly leapt, her captain and his crew Of rogues and vagabonds on whom a wit Proclaim'd their conquest of the Promised Not theirs, to serve its own ambitious schemes, Land.

Conferr'd the Land of Promise, were unfit

(Even when it blest them with its brightest XIV.

beams)
The little crooked man his word had kept. To find their promised happiness in it.
Long in the science of deception school'd,

XVI.
The subtle student proved the sage adept.
That formidable river he had fool'd

The Land of Promise rests the Land of Dreams. Fifth Series, Volume XLII.

}

No. 2029.- May 12, 1883.

From Beginning,

Vol. CLVII.

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CONTENTS.
I. THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO REMBRANDT, . Contemporary Review, .
II. THE WIZARD's Son. Part IV.,

Macmillan's Magazine,
III. AN UNSOLVED HISTORICAL RIDDLE. By
J. A. Froude,

Nineteenth Century,
IV. No New THING. Part XIX.,

xix.;

Cornhill Magazine, V. THE LAST DAYS OF A DYNASTY,

Temple Bar, VI. A CHINESE FUNERAL,

Chambers' Journal, VII. “STUDY AND STIMULANTS,”

Spectator, VIII. A VISIT TO LONGFELLOW,

Leisure Hour,

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TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. Tor Eight DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the Living Age will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co.

Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGB, 18 cents.

ROMSDAL FIORD.

Companion of my lonely walks,
July 11, 1881.

He trots beside me oft, and talks

As best he can; So this, then, was the Rover's nest,

Then, wild with sudden glee, will rush And here the chiefs were bred

And bark defiance at a thrush. Who broke the drowsing Saxon's rest,

Hie! black and tan ! And scared him in his bed.

Across his puzzled brain there throng The north wind blew, the ship sped fast, Confused ideas of right and wrong; Loud cheered the Corsair crew,

He has no plan And wild and free above the mast

Of conduct for his daily guide, The Aslauga's Raven * flew.

The god he worships dwells inside

His black and tan.
Sail south, sail south, there lies the land
Where the yellow corn is growing;

But should the world from me forbear, The spoil is for the warrior's hand,

And with unseasonable stare The slave may have the sowing.

Some weakness scan, Let cowards make their parchment laws

One faithful heart, I know, would ache, To guard their treasured hoards,

Were I with life for aye to break. The steel shall plead the Rovers' cause,

Ah, black and tan ! Their title-deeds their swords.

You're very human, little friend, The Raven still o'er Romsdal's peak

I wonder if perchance you end Is soaring as of yore,

Where I began? But Rolf the Ganger's battle-shriek

Maybe, I used to prank and bark, Calm Romsdal hears no more:

And my complexion (save the mark !)

Was black and tan.
Long ages now beneath the soil
The Ganger has been lying

Maybe, we're not so far apart;
In Romsdal's bay his quiet toil

Where is the point from which I start The fisherman is plying.

To be a man?

Come, shake a paw, and let us think The English Earl sails idly by,

If we can find this missing link, And from his deck would trace,

My black and tan ! With curious antiquarian eye,

Temple Bar.

COTSFORD DICK. The cradle of his race.

With time and tide we change and change,

Yet still the world is young ;
Still free the proudest spirits range,

The prize is for the strong.

And though it be a glorious thing

In Parliaments to shine, Though orators be modern kings,

And only not divine :

THE LAST SNOW OF WINTER.
Sort snow still rests within this wayside cleft,

Veiling the primrose buds not yet unfurled;
Last trace of dreary winter, idly left
On beds of moss, and sere leaves crisply

curled;
Why does it linger while the violets blow,

And sweet things grow?

Yet men will still be ruled by men,

And talk will have its day, And other Rolfs will come again

To sweep the rogues away. Blackwood's Magazine.

J. A. F.

A relic of long nights and weary days,
When all fair things were hidden from my

sight; A chill reminder of those mournful ways I traversed when the fields were cold and

white; My life was dim, my hopes lay still and low

Beneath the snow.

Aslauga was a Norse witch, and her messenger a

raven

ANY MAN TO HIS BLACK AND TAN.

I HAVE a dainty playmate, dear
As is none other to me here

Of my own clan;
A brass-girt collar decks his throat,
And shines like silk his glossy coat

Of black and tan.

Now spring is coming, and my buried love
Breaks fresh and strong and living through

the sod;
The lark sings loudly in the blue above,

The budding earth must magnify her God;
Let the old sorrows and old errors go

With the last snow !
Sunday Magazine. SARAH DOUDNEY.

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