i 
 

 
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Class 
 
 
 
 
SONGS OF THE COMMON DAY 
 
By the same Author 
 
 < >RION, AND OTHER POEMS [Out of print 
 IN DINERS TONES [D. Lothrop Company 
 
 THE CANADIANS OF OLD 
 
 (From the French of Philippe Aubert de Gaspe 
 
 D. Appleton & Co. 
 THE CANADIAN GUIDE-BOOK 
 
 New York : D. Appleton 6f Co. 
 
SONGS 
 OF THE COMMON DAY 
 
 AXD 
 
 AVE ! 
 
 AX ODE FOR THE SHELLEY CENTENARY 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST i6* h STREET 
 All rights reserved 
 
S6 
 
 TO 
 
 BLISS CARMAN 
 
 FRIEND, KINSMAN, AND FELLOW CRAFTSMAN 
 
 158454 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 By the kind courtesy of Messrs. D. Lothrop Company, 
 I am permitted to reprint in this collection seven sonnets 
 from my volume entitled 'In Divers Tones.' This is 
 done to complete the series of sonnets dealing with 
 aspects of common outdoor life. The sonnets reprinted 
 are 'The Sower,' 'The Potato Harvest,' 'Tides,' 'In 
 September,' ' Dark,' ' Rain,' and ' Mist.' The Ode for 
 the Centenary of Shelley's Birth was first published by 
 the Williamson Book Company, of Toronto, in Decem- 
 ber 1892, in a limited edition of two hundred copies. 
 
 C. G. D. R. 
 
 Kingscroft, Windsor, N.S., Canada : 
 May 1893. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ACROSS THE FOG THE MOON LIES FAIR 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE FURROW 
 
 THE SOWER .... 
 
 THE WAKING EARTH . 
 
 THE COW PASTURE 
 
 WHEN MILKING-TIME IS DONE 
 
 FROGS 
 
 THE SALT FLATS. 
 
 THE FIR WOODS 
 
 THE PEA-FIELDS . 
 
 THE MOWING .... 
 
 BURNT LANDS 
 
 THE CLEARING 
 
 THE SUMMER POOL 
 
 BUCKWHEAT .... 
 
 THE CICADA IN THE FIRS . 
 
x CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IN SEPTEMBER l 7 
 
 A VESPER SONNET l8 
 
 THE POTATO HARVEST 19 
 
 THE OAT-THRESHING 20 
 
 THE AUTUMN THISTLES 21 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 22 
 
 THE PUMPKINS IN THE CORN 23 
 
 THE WINTER FIELDS 24 
 
 IN AN OLD BARN 25 
 
 MIDWINTER THAW' 26 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE GEESE 27 
 
 IN THE WIDE AWE AND WISDOM OF THE NIGHT . . 25 
 
 THE HERRING WEIR 2 9 
 
 BLOMIDON • • -3° 
 
 THE NIGHT SKY 3 1 
 
 TIDES 32 
 
 THE DESERTED CITY . • • • • • 33 
 
 DARK 34 
 
 RAIN 35 
 
 MIST 3 6 
 
 MOONLIGHT 37 
 
 O SOLITARY OF THE AUSTERE SKY 3 8 
 
 POEMS 
 
 AUTOCHTHON 39 
 
 THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 4 2 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE WINDING WATER . • • • 5 1 
 
 MARSYAS 5 2 
 
COX TENTS 
 
 THE FORTRESS 
 
 SEVERANCE ...... 
 
 EPITAPH FOR A SAILOR BURIED ASHORE 
 
 THE SILVER THAW 
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY 
 
 THE NIGHT-HAWK .... 
 
 THE HERMIT-THRUSH .... 
 
 THE WILD-ROSE THICKET . 
 
 MY TREES 
 
 THE HAWKBIT 
 
 GREY ROCKS AND GREYER SEA 
 A SONG OF CHEER .... 
 
 A SONG OF GROWTH .... 
 
 TO G. B. R. 
 
 THE BIRD S SONG, THE SUN, AND THE WIND 
 OH, PURPLE HANG THE PODS 
 
 BRINGING HOME THE COWS . . . ' . 
 
 THE KEEPERS OF THE PASS 
 
 new year's eve (After the French of Frechette) 
 
 A CHRISTMAS-EVE COURTIN' 
 
 THE SUCCOUR OF GLUSKAP .... 
 
 HOW THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC 
 
 THE WOOD FROLIC 
 
 CANADIAN STREAMS 
 
 54 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 60 
 61 
 63 
 65 
 66 
 67 
 68 
 69 
 7i 
 73 
 74 
 75 
 76 
 
 78 
 81 
 84 
 91 
 95 
 100 
 
 105 
 
 AVE ! AN ODE FOR THE CENTENARY OF SHELLEY 
 
 S BIRTH III 
 
Across the fog the moon lies fair. 
 
 Transfused with ghostly amethyst, 
 O white Night, charm to wonderment 
 
 The cattle in the mist ! 
 
 Thy touch, O grave Mysteriarch, 
 Makes dull, familiar things divine. 
 
 O grant of thy revealing gift 
 Be some small portion mine ! 
 
 Make thou my vision sane and clear, 
 That I may see what beauty clings 
 
 In common forms, and find the soul 
 Of unregarded things ! 
 
THE FURROW 
 
 How sombre slope these acres to the sea 
 
 And to the breaking sun ! The sun-rise deeps 
 Of rose and crocus, whence the far dawn leaps, 
 
 Gild but with scorn their grey monotony. 
 
 The glebe rests patient for its joy to be. 
 
 Past the salt field-foot many a dim wing sweeps ; 
 And down the field a first slow furrow creeps, 
 
 Pledge of near harvests to the unverdured lea. 
 
 With clank of harness tramps the serious team — 
 The sea air thrills their nostrils. Some wise crows 
 Feed confidently behind the ploughman's feet. 
 
 In the early chill the clods fresh cloven steam, 
 And down its griding path the keen share goes : 
 So, from a scar, best flowers the future's sweet. 
 
THE SOWER 
 
 A brown, sad-coloured hillside, where the soil 
 Fresh from the frequent harrow, deep and fine. 
 Lies bare ; no break in the remote sky-line, 
 
 Save where a flock of pigeons streams aloft, 
 
 Startled from feed in some low-lying croft, 
 Or far-off spires with yellow of sunset shine ; 
 And here the Sower, unwittingly divine, 
 
 Exerts the silent forethought of his toil. 
 
 Alone he treads the glebe, his measured stride 
 Dumb in the yielding soil ; and though small joy 
 Dwell in his heavy face, as spreads the blind 
 
 Pale grain from his dispensing palm aside, 
 
 This plodding churl grows great in his employ •— 
 Godlike, he makes provision for mankind. 
 
THE WAKING EARTH 
 
 With shy bright clamour the live brooks sparkle and run. 
 
 Freed flocks confer about the farmstead ways. 
 
 The air 's a wine of dreams and shining haze, 
 Beaded with bird-notes thin, — for Spring 's begun ! 
 The sap flies upward. Death is over and done. 
 
 The glad earth wakes ; the glad light breaks ; the days 
 
 Grow round, grow radiant. Praise for the new life ! 
 Praise 
 For bliss of breath and blood beneath the sun ! 
 
 What potent wizardry the wise earth wields, 
 To conjure with a perfume ! From bare fields 
 
 The sense drinks in a breath of furrow and sod. 
 And lo, the bound of days and distance yields ; 
 
 And fetterless the soul is flown abroad, 
 
 Lord of desire and beauty, like a God •! 
 
THE COW PASTURE 
 
 I see the harsh, wind-ridden, eastward hill, 
 
 By the red cattle pastured, blanched with dew ; 
 The small, mossed hillocks where the clay gets 
 through ; 
 
 The grey webs woven on milkweed tops at will. 
 
 The sparse, pale grasses flicker, and are still. 
 The empty flats yearn seaward. All the view 
 Is naked to the horizon's utmost blue ; 
 
 And the bleak spaces stir me with strange thrill. 
 
 Not in perfection dwells the subtler power 
 To pierce our mean content, but rather works 
 Through incompletion, and the need that irks, — 
 
 Not in the flower, but effort toward the flower. 
 When the want stirs, when the soul's cravings urge, 
 The strong earth strengthens, and the clean 
 heavens purge. 
 
WHEN MILKING-TIME IS DONE 
 
 When milking-time is done, and over all 
 This quiet Canadian inland forest home 
 And wide rough pasture-lots the shadows come, 
 
 And dews, with peace and twilight voices, fall, 
 
 From moss-cooled watering-trough to foddered stall 
 The tired plough-horses turn, — the barnyard loam 
 Soft to their feet, — and in the sky's pale dome 
 
 Like resonant chords the swooping night-jars call. 
 
 The frogs, cool-fluting ministers of dream, 
 
 Make shrill the slow brook's borders ; pasture bar- 
 Down clatter, and the cattle wander through, — 
 
 Vague shapes amid the thickets ; gleam by gleam 
 Above the wet grey wilds emerge the stars, 
 And through the dusk the farmstead fades from view 
 
FROGS 
 
 Here in the red heart of the sunset lying, 
 My rest an islet of brown weeds blown dry, 
 I watch the wide bright heavens, hovering nigh, 
 
 My plain and pools in lucent splendours dyeing. 
 
 My view dreams over the rosy wastes, descrying 
 The reed-tops fret the solitary sky ; 
 And all the air is tremulous to the cry 
 
 Of myriad frogs on mellow pipes replying. 
 
 For the unrest of passion here is peace, 
 
 And eve's cool drench for midday soil and taint. 
 
 To tired ears how sweetly brings release 
 
 This limpid babble from life's unstilled complaint ; 
 
 While under tired eyelids lapse and faint 
 
 The noon's derisive visions — fade and cease. 
 
THE SALT FLATS 
 
 Here clove the keels of centuries ago 
 Where now unvisited the flats lie bare. 
 Here seethed the sweep of journeying waters, where 
 
 No more the tumbling floods of Fundy flow, 
 
 And only in the samphire pipes creep slow 
 The salty currents of the sap. The air 
 Hums desolately with wings that seaward fare, 
 
 Over the lonely reaches beating low. 
 
 The wastes of hard and meagre weeds are thronged 
 With murmurs of a past that time has wronged ; 
 
 And ghosts of many an ancient memory 
 Dwell by the brackish pools and ditches blind, 
 In these low -lying pastures of the wind, 
 
 These marshes pale and meadows by the sea. 
 
n \}W i y ' *- • ' 
 ^ OF 
 
 r#s FIR WOODS 
 
 The wash of endless waves is in their tops, 
 Endlessly swaying, and the long winds stream 
 Athwart them from the far-off shores of dream. 
 
 Through the stirred branches filtering, faintly drops 
 
 Mystic dream-dust of isle, and palm, and cave, 
 Coral and sapphire, realms of rose, that seem 
 More radiant than ever earthly gleam 
 
 Revealed of fairy mead or haunted wave. 
 
 A cloud of gold, a cleft of blue profound, — 
 These are my gates of wonder, surged about 
 By tumult of tossed bough and rocking crest : 
 
 The vision lures. The spirit spurns her bound, 
 Spreads her unprisoned wing, and drifts from out 
 This green and humming gloom that wraps my rest. 
 
THE PEA-FIELDS 
 
 Th i si. are the fields of light, and laughing air, 
 And yellow butterflies, and foraging bees, 
 And whitish, wayward blossoms winged as these, 
 
 And pale green tangles like a seamaid's hair. 
 
 Pale, pale the blue, but pure beyond compare, 
 And pale the sparkle of the far-off seas, 
 A-shimmer like these fluttering slopes of peas, 
 
 And pale the open landscape everywhere. 
 
 From fence to fence a perfumed breath exhales 
 O'er the bright pallor of the well-loved fields, — 
 
 My fields of Tantramar in summer-time ; 
 
 And, scorning the poor feed their pasture yields, 
 
 Up from the bushy lots the cattle climb, 
 
 To gaze with longing through the grey, mossed rails. 
 
THE MOWING 
 
 This is the voice of high midsummer's heat. 
 The rasping vibrant clamour soars and shrills 
 O'er all the meadowy range of shadeless hills, 
 
 As if a host of giant cicadae beat 
 
 The cymbals of their wings with tireless feet, 
 Or brazen grasshoppers with triumphing note 
 From the long swath proclaimed the fate that smote 
 
 The clover and timothy-tops and meadowsweet. 
 
 The crying knives glide on ; the green swath lies. 
 And all noon long the sun, with chemic ray, 
 Seals up each cordial essence in its cell, 
 
 That in the dusky stalls, some winter's day, 
 The spirit of June, here prisoned by his spell, 
 May cheer the herds with pasture memories. 
 
BURNT LANDS 
 
 On other fields and other scenes the morn 
 
 Laughs from her blue, — but not such fields are these, 
 Where comes no cheer of summer leaves and bees, 
 
 And no shade mitigates the day's white scorn. 
 
 These serious acres vast no groves adorn ; 
 
 But giant trunks, bleak shapes that once were trees, 
 Tower naked, unassuaged of rain or breeze, 
 
 Their stern grey isolation grimly borne. 
 
 The months roll over them, and mark no change. 
 
 But when Spring stirs, or Autumn stills, the year, 
 
 Perchance some phantom leafage rustles faint 
 Through their parched dreams, — some old-time note: 
 ring strange, 
 
 When in his slender treble, far and clear, 
 
 Reiterates the rain-bird his complaint. 
 
>3 
 
 THE CLEARING 
 
 Stumps, and harsh rocks, and prostrate trunks all charred, 
 And gnarled roots naked to the sun and rain, — 
 They seem in their grim stillness to complain, 
 
 And by their plaint the evening peace is jarred. 
 
 These ragged acres fire and the axe have scarred, 
 And many summers not assuaged their pain. 
 In vain the pink and saffron light, in vain 
 
 The pale dew on the hillocks stripped and marred ! 
 
 But here and there the waste is touched with cheer 
 Where spreads the fire-weed like a crimson flood 
 
 And venturous plumes of golden-rod appear ; 
 
 And round the blackened fence the great boughs lean 
 
 With comfort ; and across the solitude 
 The hermit's holy transport peals serene. 
 
14 
 
 THE SUMMER POOL 
 
 This is a wonder-cup in Summer's hand. 
 
 Sombre, impenetrable, round its rim 
 
 The fir-trees bend and brood. The noons o'erbrim 
 The windless hollow of its iris'd strand 
 With mote-thick sun and water-breathings bland. 
 
 Under a veil of lilies lurk and swim 
 
 Strange shapes of presage in a twilight dim, 
 Unwitting heirs of light and life's command. 
 
 Blind in their bondage, of no change they dream, 
 But the trees watch in grave expectancy 
 The spell fulfils, — and swarms of radiant flame, 
 
 Live jewels, above the crystal dart and gleam, 
 Nor guess the sheen beneath their wings to be 
 The dark and narrow regions whence they came. 
 
'5 
 
 BUCKWHEAT 
 
 This smell of home and honey on the breeze, 
 
 This shimmer of sunshine woven in white and pink 
 That comes, a dream from memory's visioned brink, 
 
 Sweet, sweet and strange across the ancient trees, — 
 
 It is the buckwheat, boon of the later bees, 
 Its breadths of heavy-headed bloom appearing 
 Amid the blackened stumps of this high clearing, 
 
 Freighted with cheer of comforting auguries. 
 
 But when the blunt, brown grain and red-ripe sheaves, 
 Brimming the low log barn beyond the eaves, 
 
 Crisped by the first frost, feel the thresher's flail, 
 Then flock the blue wild-pigeons in shy haste 
 
 All silently down x\utumn's amber trail, 
 To glean at dawn the chill and whitening waste. 
 
1 6 
 
 THE CICADA IN THE FIRS 
 
 Charm of the vibrant, white September sun — 
 How tower the firs to take it, tranced and still ! 
 Their scant ranks crown the pale, round, pasture-hil 
 
 And watch, far down, the austere waters run 
 
 Their circuit thro' the serious marshes dun. 
 
 No bird-call stirs the blue ; but strangely thrill 
 The blunt-faced, brown cicada's wing-notes shrill, 
 
 A web of silver o'er the silence spun. 
 
 O zithern-winged musician, whence it came, 
 
 I wonder, this insistent song of thine ! 
 
 Did once the highest string of Summer's lyre, 
 Snapt on some tense chord slender as a flame, 
 
 Take form again in these vibrations fine 
 
 That o'er the tranquil spheres of noon aspire ? 
 
•7 
 
 
 IN SEPTEMBER 
 
 This windy, bright September afternoon 
 My heart is wide awake, yet full of dreams. 
 The air, alive with hushed confusion, teems 
 
 With scent of grain-fields, and a mystic rune, 
 
 Foreboding of the fall of Summer soon, 
 
 Keeps swelling and subsiding ; till there seems 
 O'er all the world of valleys, hills, and streams, 
 
 Only the wind's inexplicable tune. 
 
 My heart is full of dreams, yet wide awake. 
 I lie and watch the topmost tossing boughs 
 Of tall elms, pale against the vaulted blue ; 
 
 But even now some yellowing branches shake, 
 Some hue of death the living green endows : — 
 If beauty flies, fain would I vanish too. 
 
A VESPER SONNET 
 
 This violet eve is like a waveless stream 
 Celestial, from the rapt horizon's brink, 
 Assuaging day with the diviner drink 
 
 Of temperate ecstasy, and dews, and dream. 
 
 The wine-warm dusks, that brim the valley, gleam 
 With here and there a lonely casement. Cease 
 The impetuous purples from the sky of peace, 
 
 Like God's mood in tranquillity supreme. 
 
 The encircling uplands east and west lie clear 
 In thin aerial amber, threaded fine, — 
 
 Where bush-fires gnaw the bramble-thickets sere,— 
 With furtive scarlet. Through the hush benign 
 
 One white-throat voices, till the stars appear, 
 The benediction of the Thought Divine. 
 
•9 
 
 THE POTATO HARVEST 
 
 A high bare field, brown from the plough, and borne 
 Aslant from sunset ; amber wastes of sky 
 Washing the ridge ; a clamour of crows that fly 
 
 In from the wide flats where the spent tides mourn 
 
 To yon their rocking roosts in pines wind-torn ; 
 A line of grey snake-fence, that zigzags by 
 A pond, and cattle ; from the homestead nigh 
 
 The long deep summonings of the supper horn. 
 
 Black on the ridge, against that lonely flush, 
 A cart, and stoop-necked oxen ; ranged beside 
 Some barrels ; and the day-worn harvest-folk, 
 
 Here emptying their baskets, jar the hush 
 With hollow thunders. Down the dusk hillside 
 Lumbers the wain ; and day fades out like smoke. 
 

 THE OAT-THRESHING 
 
 A little brown old homestead, bowered in trees 
 That o'er the Autumn landscape shine afar, 
 Burning with amber and with cinnabar. 
 
 A yellow hillside washed in airy seas 
 
 Of azure, where the swallow drops and flees. 
 Midway the slope, clear in the beaming day, 
 A barn by many seasons beaten grey, 
 
 Big with the gain of prospering husbandries. 
 
 In billows round the wide red welcoming doors 
 High piles the golden straw ; while from within, 
 Where plods the team amid the chaffy din, 
 
 The loud pulsation of the thresher soars, 
 Persistent as if earth could not let cease 
 This happy proclamation of her peace. 
 
21 
 
 THE AUTUMN THISTLES 
 
 The morning sky is white with mist, the earth 
 
 White with the inspiration of the dew. 
 
 The harvest light is on the hills anew, 
 And cheer in the grave acres' fruitful girth. 
 Only in this high pasture is there dearth, 
 
 Where the gray thistles crowd in ranks austere, 
 
 As if the sod, close-cropt for many a year, 
 Brought only bane and bitterness to birth. 
 
 But in the crisp air's amethystine wave 
 
 How the harsh stalks are washed with radiance now, 
 How gleams the harsh turf where the crickets lie 
 
 Dew-freshened in their burnished armour brave ! 
 Since earth could not endure nor heaven allow 
 Aught of unlovely in the morn's clear eye. 
 
INDIAN SUMMER 
 
 What touch hath set the breathing hills afire 
 With amethyst, to quench them with a tear 
 Of ecstasy ? These common fields appear 
 
 The consecrated home of hopes past number. 
 
 So many visions, so entranced a slumber, 
 
 Such dreams possess the noonday's luminous sphere. 
 That earth, content with knowing Heaven so near, 
 
 Hath done with aspiration and desire. 
 
 In these unlooked-for hours of Truth's clear reign 
 Unjarring fitness hath surprised our strife. 
 
 This radiance, that might seem to cheat the view 
 
 With loveliness too perfect to be true, 
 
 But shows this vexed and self-delusive life 
 Ideals whereto our Real must attain. 
 
-3 
 
 THE PUMPKINS IN THE CORN 
 
 Amber and blue, the smoke behind the hill, 
 Where in the glow fades out the Morning Star, 
 Curtains the Autumn cornfield, sloped afar, 
 
 And strikes an acrid savour on the chill. 
 
 The hilltop fence shines saffron o'er the still 
 
 Unbending ranks of bunched and bleaching corn 
 And every pallid stalk is crisp with morn, 
 
 Crisp with the silver Autumn morn's distil. 
 
 Purple the narrowing alleys stretched between 
 The spectral shooks, a purple harsh and cold, 
 But spotted, where the gadding pumpkins run, 
 
 With bursts of blaze that startle the serene 
 Like sudden voices, — globes of orange bold, 
 Elate to mimic the unrisen sun. 
 
24 
 
 THE WINTER FIELDS 
 
 Winds here, and sleet, and frost that bites like steel. 
 
 The low bleak hill rounds under the low sky. 
 
 Naked of flock and fold the fallows lie, 
 Thin streaked with meagre drift. The gusts reveal 
 By fits the dim grey snakes of fence, that steal 
 
 Through the white dusk. The hill-foot poplars sigh, 
 
 While storm and death with winter trample by, 
 And the iron fields ring sharp, and blind lights reel. 
 
 Yet in the lonely ridges, wrenched with pain, 
 Harsh solitary hillocks, bound and dumb, 
 
 Grave glebes close-lipped beneath the scourge and chain, 
 Lurks hid the germ of ecstasy — the sum 
 
 Of life that waits on summer, till the rain 
 Whisper in April and the crocus come. 
 
25 
 
 IN AN OLD BARN 
 
 Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay 
 
 O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves, 
 Up to the rafters where the spider weaves, 
 
 Though few flies wander his secluded way. 
 
 Through a high chink one lonely golden ray, 
 Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred. 
 In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard, 
 
 Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play. 
 
 Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls, 
 Nose-deep in clover fodder's meadowy scent, 
 Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams, 
 
 The frost that bites the world beyond their walls. 
 Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content 
 In day-long contemplation of their dreams. 
 
 V OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
26 
 
 MIDWINTER THAW 
 
 How shrink the snows upon this upland field, 
 Under the dove-grey dome of brooding noon ! 
 They shrink with soft, reluctant shocks, and soon 
 
 In sad brown ranks the furrows lie revealed. 
 
 From radiant cisterns of the frost unsealed 
 
 Now wakes through all the air a watery rune — 
 The babble of a million brooks atune, 
 
 In fairy conduits of blue ice concealed. 
 
 Noisy with crows, the wind-break on the hill 
 Counts o'er its buds for summer. In the air 
 
 Some shy foreteller prophesies with skill — 
 
 Some voyaging ghost of bird, some effluence rare ; 
 
 And the stall-wearied cattle dream their fill 
 
 Of deep June pastures where the pools are fair. 
 
27 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE GEESE 
 
 I hear the low wind wash the softening snow, 
 The low tide loiter down the shore. The night 
 Full filled with April forecast, hath no light. 
 
 The salt wave on the sedge-flat pulses slow. 
 
 Through the hid furrows lisp in murmurous flow 
 The thaw's shy ministers ; and hark ! The height 
 Of heaven grows weird and loud with unseen flight 
 
 Of strong hosts prophesying as they go ! 
 
 High through the drenched and hollow night their wings 
 Beat northward hard on winter's trail. The sound 
 
 Of their confused and solemn voices, borne 
 
 Athwart the dark to their long Arctic morn, 
 Comes with a sanction and an awe profound, 
 
 A boding of unknown, foreshadowed things. 
 
28 
 
 IN THE WIDE AWE AND WISDOM OF 
 THE NIGHT 
 
 In the wide awe and wisdom of the night 
 
 I saw the round world rolling on its way, 
 Beyond significance of depth or height, 
 
 Beyond the interchange of dark and day. 
 I marked the march to which is set no pause, 
 
 And that stupendous orbit, round whose rim 
 The great sphere sweeps, obedient unto laws 
 
 That utter the eternal thought of Him. 
 I compassed time, outstripped the starry speed, 
 
 And in my still soul apprehended space, 
 Till, weighing laws which these but blindly heed, 
 
 At last I came before Him face to face, — 
 And knew the Universe of no such span 
 As the august infinitude of Man. 
 
29 
 
 THE HERRING WEIR 
 
 Back to the green deeps of the outer bay 
 The red and amber currents glide and cringe, 
 Diminishing behind a luminous fringe 
 
 Of cream-white surf and wandering wraiths of spray. 
 
 Stealthily, in the old reluctant way, 
 
 The red flats are uncovered, mile on mile, 
 To glitter in the sun a golden while. 
 
 Far down the flats, a phantom sharply gray, 
 
 The herring weir emerges, quick with spoil. 
 Slowly the tide forsakes it. Then draws near, 
 Descending from the farm-house on the height, 
 
 A cart, with gaping tubs. The oxen toil 
 Sombrely o'er the level to the weir, 
 And drag a long black trail across the light. 
 
3° 
 
 BL0MID0N 
 
 This is that black rock bastion, based in surge, 
 
 Pregnant with agate and with amethyst, 
 Whose foot the tides of storied Minas scourge, 
 
 Whose top austere withdraws into its mist. 
 This is that ancient cape of tears and storm, 
 
 Whose towering front inviolable frowns 
 O'er vales Evangeline and love keep warm— 
 
 Whose fame thy song, O tender singer, crowns. 
 Yonder, across these reeling fields of foam, 
 
 Came the sad threat of the avenging ships. 
 What profit now to know if just the doom, 
 
 Though harsh ! The streaming eyes, the praying lips, 
 The shadow of inextinguishable pain, 
 The poet's deathless music— these remain ! 
 
3 J 
 
 THE NIGHT SKY 
 
 O deep of Heaven, 'tis thou alone art boundless, 
 
 Tis thou alone our balance shall not weigh, 
 Tis thou alone our fathom-line finds soundless, — 
 
 Whose infinite our finite must obey ! 
 Through thy blue realms and down thy starry reaches 
 
 Thought voyages forth beyond the furthest fire, 
 And, homing from no sighted shoreline, teaches 
 
 Thee measureless as is the soul's desire. 
 O deep of Heaven, no beam of Pleiad ranging 
 
 Eternity may bridge thy gulf of" spheres ! 
 The ceaseless hum that fills thy sleep unchanging 
 
 Is rain of the innumerable years. 
 Our worlds, our suns, our ages, these but stream 
 Through thine abiding like a dateless dream. 
 
32 
 
 TIDES 
 
 Through the still dusk how sighs the ebb-tide out 
 Reluctant for the reed-beds ! Down the sands 
 It washes. Hark ! Beyond the wan grey strand's 
 
 Low limits how the winding channels grieve, 
 
 Aware the evasive waters soon will leave 
 
 Them void amid the waste of desolate lands, 
 Where shadowless to the sky the marsh expands, 
 
 And the noon heats must scar them, and the drought. 
 
 Yet soon for them the solacing tide returns 
 To quench their thirst of longing. Ah, not so 
 
 W T orks the stern law our tides of life obey ! 
 
 Ebbing in the night watches swift away, 
 Scarce known are fled for ever is the flow ; 
 
 And in parched channel still the shrunk stream mourns. 
 
33 
 
 THE DESERTED CITY 
 
 There lies a little city leagues away. 
 
 Its wharves the green sea washes all day long. 
 
 Its busy, sun-bright wharves with sailors' song 
 And clamour of trade ring loud the live-long day. 
 Into the happy harbour hastening, gay 
 
 With press of snowy canvas, tall ships throng. 
 
 The peopled streets to blithe-eyed Peace belong, 
 Glad housed beneath these crowding roofs of grey. 
 
 Twas long ago this city prospered so, 
 
 For yesterday a woman died therein. 
 Since when the wharves are idle fallen, I know, 
 
 And in the streets is hushed the pleasant din ; 
 
 The thronging ships have been, the songs have 
 been ; — 
 Since yesterday it is so long ago. 
 
34 
 
 DARK 
 
 Now, for the night is hushed and blind with rain, 
 
 My soul desires communion, Dear, with thee. 
 
 But hour by hour my spirit gets not free,— 
 Hour by still hour my longing strives in vain. 
 The thick dark hems me, even to the restless brain. 
 
 The wind's confusion vague encumbers me. 
 
 Even passionate memory, grown too faint to see 
 Thy features, stirs not in her straitening chain. 
 
 And thou, dost thou too feel this strange divorce 
 Of will from power ? The spell of night and wind. 
 Baffling desire and dream, dost thou too find ? 
 
 Not distance parts us, Dear ; but this dim force, 
 Intangible, holds us helpless, hushed with pain, 
 Dumb with the dark, blind with the gusts of rain ! 
 
$S 
 
 RAIN 
 
 Sharp drives the rain, sharp drives the endless rain. 
 
 The rain-winds wake and wander, lift and blow. 
 
 The slow smoke-wreaths of vapour to and fro, 
 Wave and unweave and gather and build again. 
 Over the far gray reaches of the plain, — 
 
 Grey miles on miles my passionate thought must go, — 
 
 I strain my sight, grown dim with gazing so, 
 Pressing my face against the streaming pane. 
 
 How the rain beats ! Ah God ! If love had power 
 
 To voice its utmost yearning, even tho' 
 
 Through time and bitter distance, not in vain, 
 Surely her heart would hear me at this hour, 
 
 Look through the years, and see ! But would she 
 know 
 
 The white face pressed against the streaming pane ? 
 
 D 2 
 
56 
 
 MIST 
 
 Its hand compassionate guards our restless sight 
 Against how many a harshness, many an ill ! 
 Tender as sleep, its shadowy palms distil 
 
 Weird vapours that ensnare our eyes with light. 
 
 Rash eyes, kept ignorant in their own despite, 
 It lets not see the unsightliness they will, 
 But paints each scanty fairness fairer still, 
 
 And still deludes us to our own delight. 
 
 It fades, regathers, never quite dissolves. 
 
 And, ah ! that life, ah ! that the heart and brain 
 Might keep their mist and glamour, not to know 
 
 So soon the disenchantment and the pain ! 
 But one by one our dear illusions go, 
 Stript and cast forth as time's slow wheel revolves. 
 
37 
 
 MOONLIGHT 
 
 The fifers of these amethystine fields, 
 
 Whose far fine sound the night makes musical, 
 Now while thou wak'st and longing would'st recall 
 
 Joys that no rapture of remembrance yields, 
 
 Voice to thy soul, lone-sitting deep within 
 The still recesses of thine ecstasy, 
 My love and my desire, that fain w r ould fly 
 
 With this far-silvering moon and fold thee in. 
 
 But not for us the touch, the clasp, the kiss, 
 And for our restlessness no rest. In vain 
 These aching lips, these hungering hearts that strain 
 
 Toward the denied fruition of our bliss, 
 Had love not learned of longing to devise 
 Out of desire and dream our paradise. 
 
3» 
 
 SOLITARY OF THE AUSTERE SKY 
 
 O solitary of the austere sky, 
 
 Pale presence of the unextinguished star, 
 That from thy station where the spheres wheel by, 
 
 And quietudes of infinite patience are, 
 Watchest this wet, grey-visaged world emerge,— 
 
 Cold pinnacle on pinnacle, and deep 
 On deep of ancient wood and wandering surge, — 
 
 Out of the silence and the mists of sleep ; 
 
 How small am I in thine august regard ! 
 
 Invisible,— and yet I know my worth ! 
 When comes the hour to break this prisoning shard. 
 
 And reunite with Him that breathed me forth, 
 Then shall this atom of the Eternal Soul 
 Encompass thee in its benign control ! 
 
>9 
 
 A UTOCHTHON 
 
 I am the spirit astir 
 
 To swell the grain 
 When fruitful suns confer 
 
 With labouring rain ; 
 I am the life that thrills 
 
 In branch and bloom ; 
 I am the patience of abiding hills. 
 
 The promise masked in doom. 
 
 When the sombre lands are \vrung 5 
 
 And storms are out, 
 And giant woods give tongue 5 
 
 I am the shout ; 
 
AUTOCHTHON 
 
 And when the earth would sleep, 
 Wrapped in her snows, 
 I am the infinite gleam of eyes that keep 
 The post of her repose. 
 
 in 
 
 I am the hush of calm, 
 
 I am the speed, 
 The flood-tide's triumphing psalm, 
 
 The marsh-pool's heed ; 
 I work in the rocking roar 
 
 Where cataracts fall ; 
 I flash in the prismy fire that dances o'er 
 
 The dew's ephemeral ball. 
 
 I am the voice of wind 
 
 And wave and tree, 
 Of stern desires and blind, 
 
 Of strength to be ; 
 I am the cry by night 
 
 At point of dawn, 
 The summoning bugle from the unseen height, 
 
 In cloud and doubt withdrawn. 
 
AUTOCHTHON 41 
 
 I am the strife that shapes 
 
 The stature of man, 
 The pang no hero escapes, 
 
 The blessing, the ban ; 
 I am the hammer that moulds 
 
 The iron of our race, 
 The omen of God in our blood that a people beholds, 
 
 The foreknowledge veiled in our face. 
 
42 
 
 THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 Tantramar ! Tantramar ! 
 I see thy cool green plains afar. 
 Thy dykes where grey sea-grasses are, 
 Mine eyes behold them yet. 
 
 But not the gladness breathed of old 
 Thy bordering, blue hill-hollows hold ; 
 Thy wind-blown leagues of green unrolled, 
 Thy flats the red floods fret, 
 
 Thy steady-streaming winds— no more 
 These work the rapture wrought of yore, 
 When all thy wide bright strength outbore 
 My soul from fleshly bar. 
 
THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 A darkness as of drifted rain 
 Is over tide, and dyke, and plain. 
 The shadow-pall of human pain 
 Is fallen on Tantramar, 
 
 A little garden gay with phlox, 
 Blue corn-flowers, yellow hollyhocks, 
 Red poppies, pink and purple stocks, 
 Looks over Tantramar. 
 
 Pale yellow drops the road before 
 The hospitable cottage-door, — 
 A yellow, upland road, and o'er 
 The green marsh seeks the low red shore 
 And winding dykes afar. 
 
 Beyond the marsh, and miles away, 
 The great tides of the tumbling bay 
 Swing glittering in the golden day, 
 Swing foaming to and fro ; 
 
44 THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 And nearer, in a nest of green, 
 A little turbid port is seen, 
 Where pitch-black fishing-boats careen, 
 Left when the tide runs low. 
 
 The little port is safe and fit. 
 About its wharf the plover flit, 
 The grey net-reels loom over it, 
 With grass about their feet. 
 
 In wave and storm it hath no part, 
 This harbour in the marshes' heart ; 
 Behind its dykes, at peace, apart 
 It hears the surges beat. 
 
 The garden hollyhocks are tall ; 
 They tower above the garden wall, 
 And see, far down, the port, and all 
 The creeks, and marshes wide ; 
 
 But Margery, Margery, 
 'Tis something further thou wouldst see ! 
 Bid all thy blooms keep watch with thee 
 Across the outmost tide. 
 
 
THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 45 
 
 Bid them keep wide their starry eyes 
 To warn thee should a white sail rise, 
 Slow climbing up, from alien skies, 
 The azure round of sea. 
 
 He sails beneath a stormy star ; 
 The waves are wild, the Isles afar ; 
 Summer is ripe on Tantramar, 
 And yet returns not he. 
 
 Long, long thine eyes have watched in vain, 
 Waited in fear, and wept again. 
 Is it no more than lover's pain 
 
 That makes thy heart so wild ? 
 
 At dreams within the cottage door 
 The old man's eyes are lingering o'er 
 The little port, — the far-off shore, — 
 His dear and only child. 
 
 And at her spinning-wheel within 
 The mother's hands forget to spin. 
 With loving voice she calls thee in, — 
 Her dear and only child. 
 
t THE TIDE ON T ANTRA MAR 
 
 To leave the home-dear hearts to ache 
 Was not for thee, though thine should break. 
 l ; or their dear sake, for their dear sake, 
 Thou wouldst not go with him. 
 
 But always wise, and strong, and free, 
 Is given to which of us to be ? — 
 A gathering shadow, Margery, 
 Makes all thy daylight dim ! 
 
 Yet surely soon will break the day 
 For which thine anxious waitings pray, — 
 His sails, athwart the yellow bay, 
 Shall cleave the sky's blue rim. 
 
 in 
 
 To-night the wind roars in from sea ; 
 The crow clings in the straining tree ; 
 Curlew and crane and bittern flee 
 The dykes of Tantramar. 
 
 To-night athwart an inky sky 
 A narrowing sun dropped angrily, 
 Scoring the gloom with dreadful dye, 
 A bitter and flaming scar. 
 
THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 But ere night falls, across the tide 
 A close-reefed barque has been descried, 
 And word goes round the country-side — 
 ' The " Belle " is in the bay ! ' 
 
 And ere the loud night closes down 
 Upon that light's terrific frown, 
 Along the dyke, with blowing gown, 
 She takes her eager way. 
 
 Just where his boat will haste to land, 
 On the open wharf she takes her stand. 
 Her pale hair blows from out its band. 
 She does not heed the storm. 
 
 Her blinding joy of heart they know 
 Who so have fared, and waited so. 
 She heeds not what the winds that blow ; 
 She does not feel the storm. 
 
 But fiercer roars the gale. The night 
 With clouckgrows black, with foam gleams white 
 The creek boils to its utmost height. 
 The port is seething full. 
 
4 8 THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 The gale shouts in the outer waves 
 Amid a world of gaping graves ; 
 Against the dyke each great surge raves, 
 Blind battering like a bull. 
 
 The dyke ! The dyke ! The brute sea shakes 
 The sheltering wall. It breaks, — it breaks ! 
 The sharp salt whips her face, and wakes 
 The dreamer from her dream. 
 
 The great flood lifts. It thunders in. 
 The broad marsh foams, and sinks. The din 
 Of waves is where her world has been ; — 
 Is this — is this the dream ? 
 
 One moment in that surging hell 
 
 The old wharf shook, then cringed and fell. 
 
 Then came a lonely hulk, the ' Belle,' 
 
 And drove athwart the waste. 
 
 They know no light, nor any star, 
 Those ruined plains of Tantramar. 
 And where the maid and lover are 
 They know nor fear nor haste. 
 
THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 49 
 
 IV 
 After the flood on Tantramar 
 The fisher-folk flocked in from far. 
 They stopped the breach ; they healed the scar. 
 Once more the marsh grew green. 
 
 But at the marsh's inmost edge, 
 Where a tall fringe of flag and sedge 
 Catches a climbing hawthorn hedge, 
 A lonely hulk is seen. 
 
 It lies forgotten of all tides, 
 The grass grows round its bleaching sides, 
 An endless inland peace abides 
 About its mouldering age. 
 
 But in the cot-door on the height 
 An old man sits with fading sight, 
 And memories of one cruel night 
 Are all his heritage. 
 
 And at her spinning-wheel within 
 The mother's hands forget to spin, — 
 So weary all her days have been 
 Since Margery went away. 
 
THE TIDE ON TANTRAMAR 
 
 Tantramar ! Tantramar ! 
 
 Until that sorrow fades afar, 
 Thy plains where birds and blossoms are 
 Laugh not their ancient way ! 
 
5i 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE WIND TNG WATER 
 
 The valley of the winding water 
 Wears the same light it wore of old. 
 
 Still o'er the purple peaks the portals 
 Of distance and desire unfold. 
 
 Still break the fields of opening June 
 
 To emerald in their ancient way. 
 The sapphire of the summer heaven 
 
 Is infinite, as yesterday. 
 
 My eyes are on the greening earth, 
 The exultant bobolinks wild awing ; 
 
 And yet, of all this kindly gladness, 
 My heart beholds not anything. 
 
 For in a still room far away, 
 
 With mourners round her silent head, 
 
 Blind to the quenchless tears, the anguish — 
 I see, to-day, a woman dead. 
 
MARSYAS 
 
 A little grey hill -glade, close-turfed, withdrawn 
 
 Beyond resort or heed of trafficking feet, 
 
 Ringed round with slim trunks of the mountain ash. 
 
 Through the slim trunks and scarlet bunches flash — 
 
 Beneath the clear chill glitterings of the dawn — 
 
 Far off, the crests, where down the rosy shore 
 
 The Pontic surges beat. 
 
 The plains lie dim below. The thin airs wash 
 
 The circuit of the autumn-coloured hills, 
 
 And this high glade, whereon 
 
 The satyr pipes, who soon shall pipe no more. 
 
 He sits against the beech -tree's mighty bole, — 
 
 He leans, and with persuasive breathing fills 
 
 The happy shadows of the slant-set lawn. 
 
 The goat-feet fold beneath a gnarled root ; 
 
 And sweet, and sweet the note that steals and thrills 
 
 From slender stops of that shy flute. 
 
 Then to the goat-feet comes the wide-eyed fawn 
 
MARSYAS 53 
 
 Hearkening ; the rabbits fringe the glade, and lay 
 
 Their long ears to the sound ; 
 
 In the pale boughs the partridge gather round, 
 
 And quaint hern from the sea-green river reeds ; 
 
 The wild ram halts upon a rocky horn 
 
 O'erhanging ; and, unmindful of his prey, 
 
 The leopard steals with narrowed lids to lay 
 
 His spotted length along the ground. 
 
 The thin airs wash, the thin clouds wander by, 
 
 And those hushed listeners move not. All the morn 
 
 He pipes, soft-swaying, and with half-shut eye, 
 
 In rapt content of utterance, — 
 
 nor heeds 
 The young God standing in his branchy place, 
 The languor on his lips, and in his face, 
 Divinely inaccessible, the scorn. 
 
54 
 
 THE FORTRESS 
 
 While raves the midnight storm, 
 And roars the rain upon the windy roof, 
 Heart held to heart and all the world aloof, 
 We laugh secure and warm. 
 
 This chamber of our bliss 
 Might seem a fortress by a haunted main, 
 Which shouting hosts embattled charge in vain, 
 Powerless to mar our kiss. 
 
 O life, O storm of years, 
 
 Our walls are built against your shattering siege ; 
 Our dwelling is with Love, our sovereign liege, 
 And fenced from change and tears. 
 
55 
 
 SEVERANCE 
 
 The tide falls, and the night falls, 
 And the wind blows in from the sea, 
 
 And the bell on the bar it calls and calls, 
 And the wild hawk cries from his tree. 
 
 The late crane calls to his fellows gone 
 
 In long flight over the sea, 
 And my heart with the crane flies on and on, 
 
 Seeking its rest and thee. 
 
 O Love, the tide returns to the strand, 
 
 And the crane flies back oversea, 
 But he brings not my heart from his far-off land. 
 
 For he brings not thee to me. 
 
56 
 
 EPITAPH FOR A SAILOR 
 BURIED ASHORE 
 
 He who but yesterday would roam 
 Careless as clouds and currents range, 
 
 In homeless wandering most at home, 
 Inhabiter of change ; 
 
 Who wooed the west to win the east, 
 
 And named the stars of North and South, 
 
 And felt the zest of Freedom's feast 
 Familiar in his mouth ; 
 
 Who found a faith in stranger-speech, 
 And fellowship in foreign hands, 
 
 And had within his eager reach 
 The relish of all lands — 
 
 How circumscribed a plot of earth 
 Keeps now his restless footsteps still, 
 
 Whose wish was wide as ocean's girth, 
 Whose will the water's will ! 
 
57 
 
 THE SILVER THAW 
 
 There came a day of showers 
 
 Upon the shrinking snow ; 
 The south wind sighed of flowers, 
 
 The softening skies hung low. 
 Midwinter for a space 
 Foreshadowing April's face, 
 The white world caught the fancy, 
 And would not let it go. 
 
 In reawakened courses 
 
 The brooks rejoiced the land ; 
 We dreamed the Spring's shy forces 
 
 Were gathering close at hand. 
 The dripping buds were stirred, 
 As if the sap had heard 
 The long-desired persuasion 
 
 Of April's soft command. 
 
5 8 THE SILVER THAW 
 
 But antic Time had cheated 
 
 With hope's elusive gleam ; 
 The phantom Spring, defeated, 
 
 Fled down the ways of dream. 
 And in the night the reign 
 Of winter came again, 
 With frost upon the forest 
 And stillness on the stream. 
 
 When morn in rose and crocus 
 
 Came up the bitter sky, 
 Celestial beams awoke us 
 To wondering ecstasy. 
 The wizard Winter's spell 
 Had wrought so passing well, 
 That earth was bathed in glory, 
 As if God's smile were nigh. 
 
 The silvered saplings, bending, 
 Flashed in a rain of gems ; 
 
 The statelier trees, attending, 
 Blazed in their diadems. 
 
THE SILVER THAW 59 
 
 White fire and amethyst 
 All common things had kissed, 
 And chrysolites and sapphires 
 Adorned the bramble-stems. 
 
 In crystalline confusion 
 
 All beauty came to birth ; 
 It was a kind illusion 
 
 To comfort waiting earth — 
 To bid the buds forget 
 The Spring so distant yet, 
 And hearts no more remember 
 
 The iron season's dearth. 
 
6o 
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY 
 
 Did Winter, letting fall in vain regret 
 A tear among the tender leaves of May, 
 
 Embalm the tribute, lest she might forget, 
 In this elect, imperishable way? 
 
 Or did the virgin Spring sweet vigil keep 
 In the white radiance of the midnight hour, 
 
 And whisper to the unwondering ear of Sleep 
 Some shy desire that turned into a flower ? 
 
6 1 
 
 THE NIGHT-HAWK 
 
 When frogs make merry the pools of May, 
 And sweet, oh sweet, 
 Through the twilight dim 
 Is the vesper hymn 
 Their myriad mellow pipes repeat 
 As the rose-dusk dies away. 
 Then hark, the night-hawk ! 
 
 (For now is the elfin hour.) 
 With melting skies o'er him, 
 All summer before him, 
 His wild brown mate to adore him, 
 By the spell of his power 
 He summons the apples in flower. 
 
 In the high pale heaven he flits and calls ; 
 Then swift, oh swift, 
 On sounding wing 
 That hums like a string, 
 
62 THE NIGHT-HAWK 
 
 To the quiet glades where the gnat-clouds drift 
 And the night-moths flicker, he falls. 
 Then hark, the night-hawk ! 
 
 (For now is the elfin hour.) 
 With melting skies o'er him, 
 All summer before him, 
 His wild brown mate to adore him, 
 By the spell of his power 
 He summons the apples in flower. 
 
63 
 
 THE HERMIT-THRUSH 
 
 Over the tops of the trees, 
 
 And over the shallow stream, 
 The shepherd of sunset frees 
 
 The amber phantoms of dream. 
 The time is the time of vision ; 
 
 The hour is the hour of calm ; 
 Hark ! On the stillness Elysian 
 Breaks how divine a psalm ! 
 
 Oh, clear in the spha-e of the air, 
 
 Clear, clear, tender and far, 
 Our aspiration of prayer 
 Unto eve's clear star / 
 
 O singer serene, secure ! 
 
 From thy throat of silver and dew 
 What transport lonely and pure, 
 
 Unchanging, endlessly new, — 
 
64 THE HERMIT-THRUSH 
 
 An unremembrance of mirth, 
 
 And a contemplation of tears, 
 As if the musing of earth 
 
 Communed with the dreams of the years ! 
 Oh, clear in the sphere of the air, 
 
 Clear, clear, tender arid far, 
 Our aspiration of prayer 
 Unto eve's clear star ! 
 
 O cloistral ecstatic ! thy cell 
 
 In the cool green aisles of the leaves 
 Is the shrine of a power by whose spell 
 
 Whoso hears aspires and believes ! 
 O hermit of evening ! thine hour 
 
 Is the sacrament of desire, 
 When love hath a heavenlier flower, 
 And passion a holier fire ! 
 
 Oh, clear in the sphere of the air, 
 
 Clear, clear, tender and far, 
 Our aspiration of prayer 
 Unto eve's char star ! 
 
65 
 
 THE WILD-ROSE THICKET 
 
 Where humming flies frequent, and where 
 Pink petals open to the air, 
 
 The wild-rose thicket seems to be 
 The summer in epitome. 
 
 Amid its gold-green coverts meet 
 The late dew and the noonday heat ; 
 
 Around it, to the sea-rim harsh, 
 The patient levels of the marsh ; 
 
 And o'er it the pale heavens bent, 
 Half sufferance and half content. 
 
66 
 
 MY TREES 
 
 A 1 evening, when the winds are still, 
 
 And wide the yellowing landscape glows. 
 My firwoods on the lonely hill 
 
 Are crowned with sun and loud with crows. 
 Their flocks throng down the open sky 
 
 From far salt flats and sedgy seas ; 
 Then dusk and dewfall quench the cry, — 
 
 So calm a home is in my trees. 
 
 At morning, when the young wind swings 
 
 The green slim tops and branches high, 
 Out puffs a noisy whirl of wings, 
 
 Dispersing up the empty sky. 
 In this dear refuge no roof stops 
 
 The skyward pinion winnowing through. 
 My trees shut out the world ;— their tops 
 
 Are open to the infinite blue. 
 
67 
 
 THE HAWKBIT 
 
 How sweetly on the Autumn scene, 
 When haws are red amid the green, 
 The hawkbit shines with face of cheer, 
 The favourite of the faltering year ! 
 
 When days grow short and nights grow cold 
 How fairly gleams its eye of gold, 
 On pastured field and grassy hill, 
 Along the roadside and the rill ! 
 
 It seems the spirit of a flower, 
 This offspring of the Autumn hour, 
 Wandering back to earth to bring 
 Some kindly afterthought of Spring. 
 
 A dandelion's ghost might so 
 Amid Elysian meadows blow, 
 Become more fragile and more fine 
 Breathing the atmosphere divine. 
 
68 
 
 GREY ROCKS AND GREYER SEA 
 
 Grey rocks, and greyer sea, 
 And surf along the shore— 
 
 And in my heart a name 
 
 My lips shall speak no more. 
 
 The high and lonely hills 
 
 Endure the darkening year — 
 
 And in my heart endure 
 A memory and a tear. 
 
 Across the tide a sail 
 
 That tosses, and is gone — 
 
 And in my heart the kiss 
 That longing dreams upon. 
 
 Grey rocks, and greyer sea, 
 And surf along the shore — 
 
 And in my heart the face 
 That I shall see no more. 
 
6 9 
 
 A SONG OF CHEER 
 
 The winds are up with wakening day 
 
 And tumult in the tree ; 
 Across the cool and open sky 
 
 White clouds are streaming free ; 
 The new light breaks o'er flood and field 
 
 Clear like an echoing horn, 
 While in loud flight the crows are blown 
 
 Athwart the sapphire morn. 
 
 What tho' the maple's scarlet flame 
 
 Declares the summer done, 
 Tho' finch and starling voyage south 
 
 To win a softer sun, 
 What tho' the withered leaf whirls by 
 
 To strew the purpling stream, — 
 Stretched are the world's glad veins with strength, 
 
 Despair is grown a dream 1 
 
A SONG OF CHEER 
 
 The acres of the golden rod 
 
 Are glorious on the hills. 
 Tho storm and loss approach, the year's 
 
 High heart upleaps and thrills. 
 Dearest, the cheer, the brave delight, 
 
 Are given to shame regret, 
 That when the long frost falls, our hearts 
 
 Be glad, and not forget ! 
 
71 
 
 A SONG OF GROWTH 
 
 In the heart of a man 
 Is a thought upfurled, 
 
 Reached its full span 
 It shakes the world, 
 
 And to one high thought 
 
 Is a whole race wrought. 
 
 Not with vain noise 
 The great work grows, 
 
 Nor with foolish voice, 
 But in repose, — 
 
 Not in the rush 
 
 But in the hush. 
 
 From the cogent lash 
 Of the cloud-herd wind 
 
 The low clouds dash, 
 Blown headlong, blind ; 
 
 But beyond, the great blue 
 
 Looks moveless through. 
 
?2 A SONG OF GROWTH 
 
 O'er the loud world sweep 
 The scourge and the rod ; 
 
 But in deep beyond deep 
 Is the stillness of God ;— 
 
 At the Fountains of Life 
 
 No cry, no strife. 
 
UNIVERS 
 
 OF 
 
 TO G. B. R. 
 
 How merry sings the aftermath, 
 With crickets fifing in the dew ! 
 
 The home-sweet sounds, the scene, the hour, 
 I consecrate to you. 
 
 All this you knew and loved with me ; 
 
 All this in our delight had part ; 
 And now— though us earth sees no more 
 
 As comrades, heart to heart — 
 
 This kindly strength of open fields, 
 This faith of eve, this calm of air, 
 
 They lift my spirit close to you 
 In memory and prayer. 
 
7' 
 
 THE BIRDS SONG, THE SUN 
 AND THE WIND 
 
 The bird's song, the sun, and the wind — 
 The wind that rushes, the sun that is still, 
 
 The song of the bird that sings alone, 
 And wide light washing the lonely hill ! 
 
 The Spring's coming, the buds and the brooks — 
 The brooks that clamour, the buds in the rain, 
 
 The coming of Spring that comes unprayed for, 
 And eyes that welcome it not for pain ! 
 
75 
 
 OH, PURPLE HANG THE PODS 
 
 Oh, purple hang the pods 
 
 On the green locust-tree, 
 And yellow turn the sods 
 
 On a grave that's dear to me ! 
 
 And blue, softly blue, 
 
 The hollow Autumn sky, 
 With its birds flying through 
 
 To where the sun-lands lie ! 
 
 In the sun-lands they'll bide 
 While Winter's on the tree ; — 
 
 And oh that I might hide 
 The grave that's dear to me ! 
 
" 
 
 BRINGING HOME THE COWS 
 
 When potatoes were in blossom, 
 When the new hay filled the mows, 
 
 Sweet the paths we trod together, 
 Bringing home the cows. 
 
 What a purple kissed the pasture, 
 Kissed and blessed the alder-boughs, 
 
 As we wandered slow at sundown, 
 Bringing home the cows ! 
 
 How the far-off hills were gilded 
 With the light that dream allows, 
 
 As we built our hopes beyond them. 
 Bringing home the cows ! 
 
 How our eyes were bright with visions, 
 What a meaning wreathed our brows, 
 
 As we watched the cranes, and lingered. 
 Bringing home the cows ! 
 
BRINGING HOME THE COWS 77 
 
 Past the years, and through the distance, 
 
 Throbs the memory of our vows. 
 Oh that we again were children 
 
 15 ringing home the cows ! 
 
78 
 
 THE KEEPERS OE THE PASS 
 
 [When the Iroquois were moving in overwhelming force to ob- 
 literate the infant town of Montreal, Adam Daulac and a small 
 band of comrades, binding themselves by oath not to return alive, 
 went forth to meet the enemy in a distant pass between the Ottawa 
 river and the hills. There they died to a man, but not till they had 
 slain so many of the savages that the invading force was shattered 
 and compelled to withdraw.] 
 
 Now heap the branchy barriers up. 
 
 No more for us shall burn 
 The pine-logs on the happy hearth, 
 
 For we shall not return. 
 
 We've come to our last camping-ground. 
 
 Set axe to fir and tamarack. 
 The foe is here, the end is near, 
 
 And we shall not turn back. 
 
 In vain for us the town shall wait, 
 
 The home-dear faces yearn, 
 The watchers on the steeple watch, — 
 
 For we shall not return. 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE PASS 
 
 For them we're come to these hard straits, 
 To save from flame and wrack 
 
 The little city built far off ; 
 And we shall not turn back. 
 
 Now beat the yelling butchers down. 
 
 Let musket blaze, and axe-edge burn. 
 Set hand to hand, lay brand to brand, 
 
 But we shall not return. 
 
 For every man of us that falls 
 Their hordes a score shall lack. 
 
 Close in about the Lily Flag ! 
 No man of us goes back. 
 
 For us no morrow's dawn shall break. 
 
 Our sons and wives shall learn 
 Some day from lips of flying scout 
 
 Why we might not return. 
 
 A dream of children's laughter comes 
 
 Across the battle's slack, 
 A vision of familiar streets, — 
 
 But we shall not go back. 
 
 79 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE PASS 
 
 Up roars the painted storm once more. 
 
 Long rest we soon shall earn. 
 Henceforth the city safe may sleep, 
 
 But we shall not return. 
 
 And when our last has fallen in blood 
 Between these waters black, 
 
 Their tribe shall no more lust for war,- 
 For we shall not turn back. 
 
 In vain for us the town shall wait, 
 The home-dear faces yearn, 
 
 The watchers in the steeple watch, 
 For we shall not return. 
 
8i 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE 
 
 (AFTER THE FRENCH OF FRECHETTE) 
 
 Ye night winds shaking the weighted boughs 
 Of snow-blanched hemlock and frosted fir, 
 
 While crackles sharply the thin crust under 
 The passing feet of the wayfarer ; 
 
 Ye night cries pulsing in long-drawn waves 
 Where beats the bitter tide to its flood ; 
 
 A tumult of pain, a rumour of sorrow, 
 
 Troubling the starred night's tranquil mood ; 
 
 Ye shudderings where, like a great beast bound, 
 The forest strains to its depths remote ; 
 
 Be still and hark ! From the high gray tower 
 The great bell sobs in its brazen throat. 
 
 G 
 
S2 NEW YE A If S EVE 
 
 A strange voice out of the pallid heaven, 
 
 Twelve sobs it utters, and stops. Midnight ! 
 
 Tis the ominous Hail/ and the stern Farewell 7 
 Of Past and Present in passing flight. 
 
 This moment, herald of hope and doom, 
 That cries in our ears and then is gone, 
 
 Has marked for us in the awful volume 
 
 One step toward the infinite dark — or dawn ! 
 
 A year is gone, and a year begins. 
 
 Ye wise ones, knowing in Nature's scheme, 
 Oh tell us whither they go, the years 
 
 That drop in the gulfs of time and dream ! 
 
 They go to the goal of all things mortal, 
 Where fade our destinies, scarce perceived, 
 
 To the dim abyss wherein time confounds them— 
 The hours we laughed and the days we grieved. 
 
 They go where the bubbles of rainbow break 
 We breathed in our youth of love and fame, 
 
 Where great and small are as one together, 
 And oak and windflower counted the same. 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE S 3 
 
 They go where follow our smiles and tears, 
 The gold of youth and the gray of age, 
 
 Where falls the storm and falls the stillness, 
 The laughter of spring and winter's rage. 
 
 What hand shall gauge the depth of time 
 
 Or a little measure eternity ? 
 God only, as they unroll before Him, 
 
 Conceives and orders the mystery. 
 
s 4 
 
 A CHRISTMAS-EVE COURTJN' 
 
 The snow'd laid deep that winter from the middle of 
 
 November ; 
 The goin', as I remember, was the purtiestkind of goin' ; 
 An' as the time drawed nigh fur turkeys an 7 mince pie 
 The woods, all white an' frosted, was a sight worth 
 
 showin'. 
 
 The snow hung down the woodpiles all scalloped-hke an' 
 
 curled. 
 You'd swear in all the world ther' warn't no fences any 
 
 more. 
 The cows kep' under cover, an' the chickens scratched 
 
 twice over 
 The yaller ruck of straw a-layin' round the stable door. 
 
 'Twas Christmas Eve, in the afternoon, an' the store was 
 
 jest a-hummin' 
 When we seen the parson comin' in his pung along the 
 
 road ; 
 
A CHRISTMAS-EVE COURT IN" 85 
 
 An 5 as he passed the store he called in through the door, 
 ' Church to-night at the Crossroads ! Come, boys, and 
 bring a load ! ' 
 
 'Twas a new idee in them parts, an' Bill Simmons made 
 'n oration 
 
 About ' High Church innovation,' an' ' a-driftin" back to 
 Rome,' 
 
 But I backed the parson's rights to have Church o' moon- 
 light nights ; 
 
 An' I thought of Nance's cute red lips, an' pinted straight 
 fur home. 
 
 I wasn't long a-gittin' the chores done up, you bet, 
 An 1 the supper that I eat wouldn't more'n a' fed a fly ! 
 Then I hitched the mare in the pung an' soon was bowliif 
 
 along 
 Down by the crick to Nance's while the moon was white 
 
 an' high. 
 
 She didn't keep me waitin', fur church was at half-pas' 
 
 seven ; 
 An' my idee of Heaven, as I tucked her into the furs, 
 
86 / CHRISTMAS. EVE COURT IN' 
 
 Was a-ridin' with Nance at night when the moon was high 
 
 an' white, 
 An' the deep sky all a-sparkle like them laughin' eyes of 
 
 hers. 
 
 I had a heap to say, but I couldn't jest find my tongue ; 
 But my heart it sung an' sung, like canaries was into it. 
 So I chirruped to the mare with a kind of easy air, 
 An' Nance had to do the talkin', — as was jest the one 
 could do it ! 
 
 An' I could feel her shoulder, kind of comfortin' an' 
 
 warm, 
 Nestlin' agin my arm, — sech a sweet an' cunnin' shoulder. 
 My heart was all afire, but I kep' gittin' shyer an' shyer, 
 An' wished that I'd been born a leetle sassier an' bolder. 
 
 We come to them there Crossroads 'fore I'd time to say 
 a word ; 
 
 An' I reckon as how I heard mighty little of the sarvice. 
 
 But 'twas grand to hear Nance sing ' Glory to the new- 
 born King,' 
 
 Tho' the way the choir folks stared at us, it made me kind 
 of narvous. 
 
A CHRISTMAS-EVE COURTIN' 87 
 
 1 wished the parson'd stop an' give me another chance 
 Out there in the night with Nance, under the stars an' 
 
 moon ; 
 An' I vowed I'd have my say in the tidiest kind of way, 
 An' she shouldn't have no more call to think me a blame 
 
 gossoon. 
 
 At last the preachin' come to an end, an' the folks all 
 
 crowded out. 
 'Fore I knowed what I was about we was on the road fur 
 
 home. 
 But the sky was overcast an' a thick snow droppin' fast, 
 An' a big wind down from the mountins got a-rantin' an 
 
 moanin' some. 
 
 We hadn't rode two mile when it blowed like all 
 
 possessed, 
 An' at that I kind of guessed we was in fur a ticklish 
 
 night. 
 We couldn't go more'n a walk, an' Nance she forgot to 
 
 talk ; 
 Then I jest slipped my arm around her, an' she never 
 
 kicked a mite. 
 
88 A CHRISTMAS- EVE COURT IN' 
 
 Well, now, if the hull blame roofd blowed off I wouldn't 
 
 'a keered, 
 But I seen as how Nance was skeered, so I sez, 'By 
 
 gracious, Nance, 
 I guess if we don't turn, an' cut back for the Crossroads, 
 
 durn 
 The shelter we'll git to-night by any kind of a chance ! ' 
 
 Then the mare stopped short an' whinnied, an' Nance 
 
 jest said, ' Oh, Si ! ' 
 An' then commenced to cry, till I felt like cryin' too ; 
 I forgot about the storm, an' jest hugged her close an' 
 
 warm, 
 An' kissed her, an' kissed her, an' swore as how I'd be true. 
 
 Then Nance she quit her cryin' an' said she wastn't 
 
 skeered 
 So long's she knowed I keered jest a leetle mite fur her ; 
 But she guessed we'd better try an' git home, an' ' by- 
 
 an'-by 
 The storm '11 stop, an' anyways, it ain't so very fur ! ' 
 
 My heart was that chock full I couldn't find a word to 
 
 say, 
 But she understood the way that I looked into her eyes ! 
 
A CHRISTMAS- EVE C OUR TIN' 89 
 
 In buffaler robe an' rug I wrapped her warm an' snug, 
 An' got out an' broke the mare a road all the way to 
 Barnes's Rise. 
 
 'Twas a tallish tramp, I tell you, a-leadin' that flounderin' 
 
 mare 
 Thro' snow drifts anywheres from four to six foot deep. 
 An' a 'painter' now an' then howled out from his moun- 
 
 tin den ; 
 But Nance, she never heered it, fur she must 'a fell to 
 
 sleep. 
 
 It wasn't fur from mornin' when we come to Barnes's 
 
 Rise, — 
 An' I found to my surprise I'd tramped nine mile an' 
 
 wasn't tired. 
 I was in sech a happy dream it didn't hardly seem 
 As the ride had been any tougher'n jest what I'd desired. 
 
 It was easier goin' now, an' Nance woke up all rosy. 
 She was sweeter'n any posy as I kissed her at the gate. 
 The dawn was jest a-growin' so I wished her a Merry 
 
 Christmas, 
 An' remarked I must be goin' as it might be gittin' late ! 
 
9 o A CHRISTMAS-EVE C OUR TIN' 
 
 We was married at the Crossroads jest six weeks from 
 Christmas Eve ; 
 
 An' Nance an' me believe in our parson's innovations ; 
 
 We ain't much skeered o' Rome, an' we reckon he can 
 preach some, 
 
 An' we call that evenin' sarvice a Providential Dispen- 
 sation. 
 
9i 
 
 THE SUCCOUR OF GLUSKAP 
 
 (a micmac legend) 
 
 The happy valley laughed with sun, 
 
 The corn grew firm in stalk, 
 The lodges clustered safe where run 
 
 The streams of Peniawk. 
 
 The washing-pools and shallows rang 
 
 With shout of lads at play ; 
 At corn-hoeing the women sang ; 
 
 The warriors were away. 
 
 The splashed white pebbles on the beach, 
 The idling paddles, gleamed ; 
 
 Before the lodge doors, spare of speech, 
 The old men basked and dreamed. 
 
 And when the windless noon grew hot, 
 And the white sun beat like steel, 
 
 In shade about the shimmering pot 
 They gathered to their meal. 
 
92 THE SUCCOUR OF GLUSKAP 
 
 Then from the hills, on flying feet, 
 
 A desperate runner came, 
 With cry that smote the peaceful street, 
 
 And slew the peace with shame. 
 
 ' Trapped in the night, and snared in sleep, 
 Our warriors wake no more ! 
 
 Up from Wahloos the Mohawks creep — 
 Their feet are at the door ! ' 
 
 The grey old sachems rose and mocked 
 
 The ruin that drew near ; 
 And down the beach the children flocked, 
 
 And women wild with fear. 
 
 Launched were the red canoes ; when, lo ! 
 
 Beside them Gluskap stood, 
 Appearing with his giant bow 
 
 From out his mystic wood. 
 
 With quiet voice he called them back, 
 
 And comforted their fears ; 
 He swore the lodges should not lack, 
 
 He dried the children's tears ; 
 
THE SUCCOUR OF GLUSKAP 
 
 Till sorrowing mothers almost deemed 
 
 The desperate runner lied, 
 And the tired children slept, and dreamed 
 
 Their fathers had not died. 
 
 That night behind the mystic wood 
 
 The Mohawk warriors crept ; 
 A spell went through the solitude 
 
 And stilled them, and they slept. 
 
 And when the round moon, rising late, 
 The Hills of Kawlm had crossed, 
 
 She saw the camp of Mohawk hate 
 Swathed in a great white frost. 
 
 At morn, behind the mystic wood 
 
 Came Gluskap, bow in hand, 
 And marked the ice-bound solitude, 
 
 And that unwaking band. 
 
 But as he gazed his lips grew mild, 
 
 For, safe among the dead, 
 There played a ruddy, laughing child 
 
 By a captive mother's head ; 
 
 93 
 
94 
 
 THE SUCCOUR OF GLUSKAP 
 
 And child and mother, nestling warm, 
 Scarce knew their foes had died, 
 
 As past their sleep the noiseless storm 
 Of strange death turned aside. 
 
95 
 
 HOW THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR 
 MEDOCTEC 
 
 [When the invading Mohawks captured the outlying Melicite 
 village of Madawaska, they spared two squaws to guide them down 
 stream to the main Melicite town of Medoctec, below Grand Falls. 
 The squaws steered themselves and their captors over the Falls. ] 
 
 Grows the great" deed, though none 
 Shout to behold it done ! 
 To the brave deed done by night 
 Heaven testifies in the light 
 
 Stealthy and swift as a dream, 
 Crowding the breast of the stream, 
 In their paint and plumes of war 
 And their war-canoes four score, 
 
 They are threading the Oolastook, 
 Where his cradling hills o'erlook. 
 The branchy thickets hide them ; 
 The unstartled waters guide them. 
 
96 HOW THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC 
 
 Comes night to the quiet hills 
 Where the Madawaska spills, — 
 To his slumbering huts no warning, 
 Nor mirth of another morning ! 
 
 No more shall the children wake 
 
 As the dawns through the hut-door break 
 
 But the dogs, a trembling pack, 
 
 With wistful eyes steal back. 
 
 And, to pilot the noiseless foe 
 Through the perilous passes, go 
 Two women who could not die — 
 Whom the knife in the dark passed by. 
 
 in 
 
 Where the shoaling waters froth, 
 Churned thick like devils' broth,- 
 Where the rocky shark -jaw waits, 
 Never a bark that grates. 
 
HOW THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC 97 
 
 And the tearless captives' skill 
 Contents them. Onward still ! 
 And the low-voiced captives tell 
 The tidings that cheer them well : 
 
 How a clear stream leads them down 
 Well-nigh to Medoctec town, 
 Ere to the great Falls' thunder 
 The long wall yawns asunder. 
 
 IV 
 
 The clear stream glimmers before them ; 
 The faint night falters o'er them ; 
 Lashed lightly bark to bark, 
 They glide the windless dark. 
 
 Late grows the night. No fear 
 While the skilful captives steer ! 
 Sleeps the tired warrior, sleeps 
 The chief; and the river creeps. 
 
9 8 HOW THE MOHA WKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC 
 
 In the town of the Melicite 
 The unjarred peace is sweet, 
 Green grows the corn and great, 
 And the hunt is fortunate. 
 
 This many a heedless year 
 The Mohawks come not near. 
 The lodge-gate stands unbarred ; 
 Scarce even a dog keeps guard. 
 
 No mother shrieks from a dream 
 Of blood on the threshold stream, — 
 But the thought of those mute guides 
 Is where the sleeper bides ! 
 
 VI 
 
 Gets forth those caverned walls 
 No roar from the giant Falls, 
 Whose mountainous foam treads under 
 The abyss of awful thunder. 
 
HOW THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC 99 
 
 But — the river's sudden speed ! 
 How the ghost-grey shores recede ! 
 And the tearless pilots hear 
 A muttering voice creep near. 
 
 A tremor ! The blanched waves leap. 
 The warriors start from sleep. 
 Faints in the sudden blare 
 The cry of their swift despair, 
 
 And the captives' death-chant shrills . . . 
 But afar, remote from ills, 
 Quiet under the quiet skies 
 The Melicite village lies. 
 
THE WOOD FROLIC 
 
 The Morning Star was bitter bright, the morning sky was 
 
 grey ; 
 And we hitched our teams and started for the woods 
 
 at break of day. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 Along the white and winding road the sled-bells jangled 
 
 keen 
 Between the buried fences, the billowy drifts between. 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
 So crisp sang the runners, and so swift the horses sped, 
 That the woods were all about us ere the sky grew red. 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 The bark hung ragged on the birch, the lichen on the 
 
 fir, 
 The lungwort fringed the maple, and grey moss the 
 
 juniper. 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
THE WOOD FROLIC 101 
 
 So still the air and chill the air the branches seemed 
 
 asleep, 
 But we broke their ancient visions as the axe bit deep. 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high .' 
 
 With the shouts of the choppers and the barking of then- 
 blades, 
 
 How rang the startled valleys and the rabbit-haunted 
 glades ! 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
 The hard wood and the soft wood, we felled them for 
 
 our use ; 
 And chiefly, for its scented gum, we loved the scaly 
 
 spruce ; 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high I 
 
 And here and there, with solemn roar, some hoary tree 
 
 came down, 
 And we heard the rolling of the years in the thunder of 
 
 its crown. 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
102 THE WOOD FROLIC 
 
 So, many a sled was loaded up above the stake-tops 
 
 soon ; 
 And many a load was at the farm before the horn of 
 
 noon ; 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, a?id the snow piles high ! 
 
 And ere we saw the sundown all yellow through the 
 
 trees, 
 The farmyard stood as thick with wood as a buckwheat 
 
 patch with bees ; 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
 And with the last-returning teams, and axes burnished 
 
 bright, 
 We left the woods to slumber in the frosty shadowed 
 
 night. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 And then the wide, warm kitchen, with beams across the 
 
 ceiling, 
 Thick hung with red-skinned onions, and homely herbs 
 
 of healing ! 
 
 Oh, meriy siving the axes, and the bright chips fly I 
 
THE WOOD FROLIC 
 
 103 
 
 The dishes on the dresser-shelves were shining blue and 
 
 white, 
 And o'er the loaded table the lamps beamed bright. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 Then, how the ham and turkey and the apple- sauce did 
 
 fly, 
 
 The heights of boiled potatoes and the flats of pumpkin- 
 pie ! 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly I 
 
 With bread-and-cheese and doughnuts fit to feed a farm 
 
 a year ! 
 And we washed them down with tides of tea and oceans 
 
 of spruce beer. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 At last the pipes were lighted and the chairs pushed 
 
 back, 
 And Bill struck up a sea-song on a rather risky tack ; 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly f 
 
io 4 THE WOOD FROLIC 
 
 And the girls all thought it funny — but they never knew 
 
 'twas worse, 
 For we gagged him with a doughnut at the famous second 
 
 verse. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 Then someone fetched a fiddle, and we shoved away the 
 
 table, 
 And 'twas jig and reel and polka just as long as we were 
 
 able, 
 
 Oh, merry swing the axes, and the bright chips fly ! 
 
 Till at last the girls grew sleepy, and we got our coats to 
 
 go- 
 We started off with racing-teams and moonlight on the 
 
 snow ; 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
 And soon again the winter world was voiceless as of old, 
 Alone with all the wheeling stars, and the great white 
 cold. 
 
 Oh, the frost is on the forest, and the snow piles high ! 
 
io5 
 
 CANADIAN STREAMS 
 
 O rivers rolling to the sea 
 
 From lands that bear the maple-tree, 
 
 How swell your voices with the strain 
 Of loyalty and liberty ! 
 
 A holy music, heard in vain 
 
 By coward heart and sordid brain, 
 
 To whom this strenuous being seems 
 Naught but a greedy race for gain, 
 
 O unsung streams— not splendid themes 
 Ye lack to fire your patriot dreams ! 
 
 Annals of glory gild your waves, 
 Hope freights your tides, Canadian streams ! 
 
 St. Lawrence, whose wide water laves 
 
 The shores that ne'er have nourished slaves ! 
 
 Swift Richelieu of lilied fame ! 
 Niagara of glorious graves ! 
 
106 CANADIAN STREAMS 
 
 Thy rapids, Ottawa, proclaim 
 Where Daulac and his heroes came ! 
 
 Thy tides, St. John, declare La Tour, 
 And, later, many a loyal name ! 
 
 Thou inland stream, whose vales, secure 
 From storm, Tecumseh's death made poor ! 
 
 And thou small water, red with war, 
 'Twixt Beaubassin and Beausejour ! 
 
 Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar, 
 What voice shall from the bastioned shore 
 
 The tale of Roberval reveal, 
 Or his mysterious fate deplore ? 
 
 Annapolis, do thy floods yet feel 
 Faint memories of Champlain's keel, 
 
 Thy pulses yet the deed repeat 
 Of Poutrincourt and dTberville ? 
 
 And thou far tide, whose plains now beat 
 With march of myriad westering feet, 
 
 Saskatchewan, whose virgin sod 
 So late Canadian blood made sweet ? 
 
CANADIAN STREAMS 107 
 
 Your bulwark hills, your valleys broad, 
 Streams where de Salaberry trod, 
 
 Where Wolfe achieved, where Brock was slain, — 
 Their voices are the voice of God ! 
 
 O sacred waters ! not in vain, 
 Across Canadian height and plain, 
 Ye sound us in triumphant tone 
 The summons of your high refrain. 
 
AVE 
 
AVE! 
 
 AN ODE FOR THE CENTENARY OF SHELLEY'S BIRTH 
 
 O tranquil meadows, grassy Tantramar, 
 Wide marshes ever washed in clearest air, 
 
 Whether beneath the sole and spectral star 
 The dear severity of dawn you wear, 
 
 Or whether in the joy of ample day 
 
 And speechless ecstasy of growing June 
 
 You lie and dream the long blue hours away 
 Till nightfall comes too soon, 
 
 Or whether, naked to the unstarred night, 
 
 You strike with wondering awe my inward sight, - 
 
 You know how I have loved you, how my dreams 
 Go forth to you with longing, though the years 
 
 That turn not back like your returning streams 
 And fain would mist the memory with tears, 
 
ii2 AVE! 
 
 Though the inexorable years deny 
 
 My feet the fellowship of your deep grass, 
 O'er which, as o'er another, tenderer sky, 
 
 Cloud phantoms drift and pass, — 
 You know my confident love, since first, a child. 
 Amid your wastes of green I wandered wild. 
 
 Inconstant, eager, curious, I roamed ; 
 
 And ever your long reaches lured me on ; 
 And ever o'er my feet your grasses foamed, 
 
 And in my eyes your far horizons shone. 
 But sometimes would you (as a stillness fell 
 
 And on my pulse you laid a soothing palm), 
 Instruct my ears in your most secret spell ; 
 
 And sometimes in the calm 
 Initiate my young and wondering eyes 
 Until my spirit grew more still and wise. 
 
 IV 
 
 Purged with high thoughts and infinite desire 
 I entered fearless the most holy place, 
 
 Received between my lips the secret fire, 
 The breath of inspiration on my face. 
 
AVE! 
 
 But not for long these rare illumined hours, 
 
 The deep surprise and rapture not for long. 
 Again I saw the common, kindly flowers, 
 
 Again I heard the song 
 Of the glad bobolink, whose lyric throat 
 Pealed like a tangle of small bells afloat. 
 
 The pounce of mottled marsh-hawk on his prey ; 
 
 The flicker of sand-pipers in from sea 
 In gusty flocks that puffed and fled ; the play 
 
 Of field-mice in the vetches ; — these to me 
 Were memorable events. But most availed 
 
 Your strange unquiet waters to engage 
 My kindred heart's companionship ; nor failed 
 
 To grant this heritage, — 
 That in my veins for ever must abide 
 The urge and fluctuation of the tide. 
 
 VI 
 
 The mystic river whence you take your name, 
 River of hubbub, raucous Tantramar, 
 
 Untamable and changeable as flame, 
 
 It called me and compelled me from afar, 
 
 1*3 
 
ii 4 [AVE! 
 
 Shaping my soul with its impetuous stress. 
 
 When in its gaping channel deep withdrawn 
 Its waves ran crying of the wilderness 
 
 And winds and stars and dawn, 
 How I companioned them in speed sublime, 
 Led out a vagrant on the hills of Time ! 
 
 VII 
 
 And when the orange flood came roaring in 
 
 From Fundy's tumbling troughs and tide-worn caves, 
 
 While red Minudie's flats were drowned with din 
 And rough Chignecto's front oppugned the waves, 
 
 How blithely with the refluent foam I raced 
 Inland along the radiant chasm, exploring 
 
 The green solemnity with boisterous haste ; 
 My pulse of joy outpouring 
 
 To visit all the creeks that twist and shine 
 
 From Beausejour to utmost Tormentine. 
 
 VIII 
 
 And after, when the tide was full, and stilled 
 A little while the seething and the hiss, 
 
 And every tributary channel filled 
 
 To the brim with rosy streams that swelled to kiss 
 
AVE! 115 
 
 The grass-roots all a-wash and goose-tongue wild 
 And salt-sap rosemary, — then how well content 
 I was to rest me like a breathless child 
 
 With play-time rapture spent, — 
 To lapse and loiter till the change should come 
 And the great floods turn seaward, roaring home. 
 
 IX 
 
 And now, O tranquil marshes, in your vast 
 
 Serenity of vision and of dream, 
 Wherethrough by every intricate vein have passed 
 
 With joy impetuous and pain supreme 
 The sharp fierce tides that chafe the shores of earth 
 
 In endless and controlless ebb and flow, 
 Strangely akin you seem to him whose birth 
 
 One hundred years ago 
 With fiery succour to the ranks of song 
 Defied the ancient gates of wrath and wrong. 
 
 Like yours, O marshes, his compassionate breast, 
 Wherein abode all dreams of love and peace, 
 
 Was tortured with perpetual unrest. 
 
 Now loud with flood, now languid with release, 
 
 1 2 
 
u6 AVE! 
 
 Now poignant with the lonely ebb, the strife 
 
 Of tides from the salt sea of human pain 
 That hiss along the perilous coasts of life 
 
 Beat in his eager brain ; 
 But all about the tumult of his heart 
 Stretched the great calm of his celestial art. 
 
 XI 
 
 Therefore with no far flight, from Tantramar 
 And my still world of ecstasy, to thee, 
 
 Shelley, to thee I turn, the avatar 
 
 Of Song, Love, Dream, Desire and Liberty ; 
 
 To thee I turn with reverent hands of prayer 
 
 And lips that fain would ease my heart of praise, 
 
 Whom chief of all whose brows prophetic wear 
 The pure and sacred bays 
 
 I worship, and have worshipped since the hour 
 
 When first I felt thy bright and chainless power. 
 
 XII 
 
 About thy sheltered cradle, in the green 
 
 Untroubled groves of Sussex, brooded forms 
 
 That to the mother's eye remained unseen, — 
 
 Terrors and ardours, passionate hopes, and storms 
 
AVE! 
 
 Of fierce retributive fury, such as jarred 
 
 Ancient and sceptred creeds, and cast down kings, 
 And oft the holy cause of Freedom marred 
 
 With lust of meaner things, 
 With guiltless blood, and many a frenzied crime 
 Dared in the face of unforgetful Time. 
 
 XIII 
 
 The star that burns on revolution smote 
 
 Wild heats and change on thine ascendant sphere, 
 
 Whose influence thereafter seemed to float 
 
 Through many a strange eclipse of wrath and fear, 
 
 Dimming awhile the radiance of thy love. 
 But still supreme in thy nativity, 
 
 All dark, invidious aspects far above, 
 Beamed one clear orb for thee, — 
 
 The star whose ministrations just and strong 
 
 Controlled the tireless flight of Dante's song. 
 
 xiv 
 
 With how august contrition, and what tears 
 
 Of penitential unavailing shame, 
 Thy venerable foster-mother hears 
 
 The sons of song impeach her ancient name, 
 
n8 AVE! 
 
 Because in one rash hour of anger blind 
 
 She thrust thee forth in exile, and thy feet 
 Too soon to earth's wild outer ways consigned, — 
 
 Far from her well-loved seat, 
 Far from her studious halls and storied towers 
 And weedy Isis winding through his flowers. 
 
 xv 
 And thou, thenceforth the breathless child of change, 
 
 Thine own Alastor, on an endless quest 
 Of unimagined loveliness, didst range, 
 
 Urged ever by the soul's divine unrest. 
 Of that high quest and that unrest divine 
 
 Thy first immortal music thou didst make, 
 Inwrought with fairy Alp, and Reuss, and Rhine, 
 
 And phantom seas that break 
 In soundless foam along the shores of Time, 
 Prisoned in thine imperishable rhyme. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Thyself the lark melodious in mid-heaven ; 
 
 Thyself the Protean shape of chainless cloud, 
 Pregnant with elemental fire, and driven 
 
 Through deeps of quivering light, and darkness loud 
 
AVE! 119 
 
 With tempest, yet beneficent as prayer ; 
 
 Thyself the wild west wind, relentless strewing 
 The withered leaves of custom on the air, 
 
 And through the wreck pursuing 
 O'er lovelier Arnos, more imperial Romes, 
 Thy radiant visions to their viewless homes. 
 
 XVII 
 
 And when thy mightiest creation thou 
 
 Wert fain to body forth, — the dauntless form, 
 
 The all-enduring, all-forgiving brow 
 
 Of the great Titan, flinchless in the storm 
 
 Of pangs unspeakable and nameless hates, 
 Yet rent by all the wrongs and woes of men, 
 
 And triumphing in his pain, that so their fates 
 Might be assuaged,— -oh then 
 
 Out of that vast compassionate heart of thine 
 
 Thou wert constrained to shape the dream benign. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 — O Baths of Caracalla, arches clad 
 
 In such transcendent rhapsodies of green 
 
 That one might guess the sprites of spring were glad 
 For your majestic ruin, yours the scene, 
 
120 AVE! 
 
 The illuminating air of sense and thought ; 
 
 And yours the enchanted light, O skies of Rome, 
 Where the giant vision into form was wrought ; 
 
 Beneath your blazing dome 
 The intensest song our language ever knew 
 Beat up exhaustless to the blinding blue ! — 
 
 XIX 
 
 The domes of Pisa and her towers superb, 
 
 The myrtles and the ilexes that sigh 
 O'er San Giuliano, where no jars disturb 
 
 The lonely aziola's evening cry, 
 The Serchio's sun-kissed waters,— these conspired 
 
 With Plato's theme occult, with Dante's calm 
 Rapture of mystic love, and so inspired 
 
 Thy soul's espousal psalm, 
 A strain of such elect and pure intent 
 It breathes of a diviner element. 
 
 xx 
 
 Thou on whose lips the word of Love became 
 
 A rapt evangel to assuage all wrong, 
 Not Love alone, but the austerer name 
 
 Of Death engaged the splendours of thy song. 
 
AVE! 
 
 The luminous grief, the spacious consolation 
 
 Of thy supreme lament, that mourned for him 
 Too early haled to that still habitation 
 
 Beneath the grass-roots dim,— 
 Where his faint limbs and pain-o'erwearied heart 
 Of all earth's loveliness became a part, 
 
 XXI 
 
 But where, thou sayest, himself would not abide, — 
 
 Thy solemn incommunicable joy 
 Announcing Adonais has not died, 
 
 Attesting death to free but not destroy, 
 All this was as thy swan-song mystical. 
 
 Even while the note serene was on thy tongue 
 Thin grew the veil of the Invisible, 
 
 The white sword nearer swung, — 
 And in the sudden wisdom of thy rest 
 Thou knewest all thou hadst but dimly guessed. 
 
 XXII 
 
 — Lament, Lerici, mourn for the world's loss ! 
 
 Mourn that pure light of song extinct at noon ! 
 Ye waves of Spezzia that shine and toss 
 
 Repent that sacred flame you quenched too soon ! 
 
122 AVE! 
 
 Mourn, Mediterranean waters, mourn 
 
 In affluent purple down your golden shore ! 
 Such strains as his, whose voice you stilled in scorn, 
 
 Our ears may greet no more, 
 Unless at last to that far sphere we climb 
 Where he completes the wonder of his rhyme ! 
 
 XXIII 
 
 How like a cloud she fled, thy fateful bark, 
 
 From eyes that watched to hearts that waited, till 
 
 Up from the ocean roared the tempest dark — 
 And the wild heart love waited for was still ! 
 
 Hither and thither in the slow, soft tide, 
 
 Rolled seaward, shoreward, sands and wandering shells 
 
 And shifting weeds thy fellows, thou didst hide 
 Remote from all farewells, 
 
 Nor felt the sun, nor heard the fleeting rain, 
 
 Nor heeded Casa Magni's quenchless pain. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Thou heededst not ? Nay, for it was not thou, 
 That blind, mute clay relinquished by the waves 
 
 Reluctantly at last, and slumbering now 
 
 In one of kind earth's most compassionate graves ! 
 
AVE! 123 
 
 Not thou, not thou,— for thou wert in the light 
 
 Of the Unspeakable, where time is not. 
 Thou sawest those tears ; but in thy perfect sight 
 
 And thy eternal thought 
 Were they not even now all wiped away 
 In the reunion of the infinite day ! 
 
 xxv 
 
 There face to face thou sawest the living God 
 And worshipedst, beholding Him the same 
 
 Adored on earth as Love, the same whose rod 
 Thou hadst endured as Life, whose secret name 
 
 Thou now didst learn, the healing name of Death. 
 In that unroutable profound of peace, 
 
 Beyond experience of pulse and breath, 
 Beyond the last release 
 
 Of longing, rose to greet thee all the lords 
 
 Of Thought, with consummation in their words. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 He of the seven cities claimed, whose eyes, 
 
 Though blind, saw gods and heroes, and the fall 
 
 Of Ilium, and many alien skies, 
 
 And Circe's Isle ; and he whom mortals call 
 
i2 4 AVE I 
 
 The Thunderous, who sang the Titan bound 
 
 As thou the Titan victor ; the benign 
 Spirit of Plato ; Job : and Judah's crowned 
 
 Singer and seer divine ; 
 Omar ; the Tuscan ; Milton vast and strong ; 
 And Shakspeare, captain of the host of Song. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Back from the underworld of whelming change 
 To the wide-glittering beach thy body came ; 
 
 And thou didst contemplate with wonder strange 
 And curious regard thy kindred flame, 
 
 Fed sweet with frankincense and wine and salt, 
 With fierce purgation search thee, soon resolving 
 
 Thee to the elements of the airy vault 
 And the far spheres revolving, 
 
 The common waters, the familiar woods, 
 
 And the great hills' inviolate solitudes. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Thy close companions there officiated 
 
 With solemn mourning and with mindful tears ;- 
 The pained, imperious wanderer unmated 
 
 Who voiced the wrath of those rebellious years ; 
 
AVE! 125 
 
 Trelawney, lion limbed and high of heart ; 
 
 And he, that gentlest sage and friend most true, 
 Whom Adonais loved. With these bore part 
 
 One grieving ghost, that flew 
 Hither and thither through the smoke unstirred 
 In wailing semblance of a wild white bird. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 O heart of fire, that fire might not consume, 
 For ever glad the world because of thee ; 
 
 Because of thee for ever eyes illume 
 A more enchanted earth, a lovelier sea ! 
 
 O poignant voice of the desire of life, 
 Piercing our lethargy, because thy call 
 
 Aroused our spirits to a nobler strife 
 Where base and sordid fall, 
 
 For ever past the conflict and the pain 
 
 More clearly beams the goal we shall attain ! 
 
 XXX 
 
 And now once more, O marshes, back to you 
 From whatsoever wanderings, near or far, 
 
 To you I turn with joy for ever new, 
 
 To you, O sovereign vasts of Tantramar ! 
 
126 AVE! 
 
 Your tides are at the full. Your wizard flood, 
 
 With every tribute stream and brimming creek, 
 Ponders, possessor of the utmost good, 
 
 With no more left to seek •— 
 But the hour wanes and passes ; and once more 
 Resounds the ebb with destiny in its roar. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 So might some lord of men, whom force and fate 
 And his great heart's unvanquishable power 
 
 Have thrust with storm to his supreme estate, 
 Ascend by night his solitary tower 
 
 High o'er the city's lights and cries uplift. 
 Silent he ponders the scrolled heaven to read 
 
 And the keen stars' conflicting message sift, 
 Till the slow signs recede, 
 
 And ominously scarlet dawns afar 
 
 The day he leads his legions forth to war. 
 
 r '"''ii-rY 
 
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i 4 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
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 ESSAYS, REVIEWS, AND ADDRESSES. 4 vols. Crown 8vo. 7 s. 6d. 
 
 each. 
 I. Personal : Political. III. Theological : Philosophical. 
 
 II. Ecclesiastical : Historical. . IV. Academical : Religious. 
 
 MATTHEWS (Brander).— A FAMILY TREE, and other Stories. Crown 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 PEN AND INK— Selected Papers. Crown 8vo. 5*. 
 
 WITH MY FRIENDS : Tales told in Partnership. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 MA UZBEK'S TREASURIES. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. each volume 
 
 Biographical Treasury. 
 
 Treasury of Natural History. With 
 
 900 Woodcuts. 
 Treasury of Geography. With 7 Maps 
 
 and 16 Plates. 
 
 Th3 Treasury of Bible Knowledge. By 
 
 the Rev. J. Ayke. With 5 Maps, 
 15 Plates, and 300 Woodcuts. Fcp. 
 8vo. 6s. 
 The Treasury of Botany. Edited by 
 
 Scientific and Literary Treasury. j J. Lindley and T. Moore. With 
 Historical Treasury, 274 Woodcuts and 20 Steel Plates. 
 
 Treasury of Knowledge. | 2 vols. 
 
 MAX MLTLLER (P.).— SELECTED ESSAYS ON LANGUAGE, 
 MYTHOLOGY, AND RELIGION. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 16s. 
 
 THREE LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE. Cr. 
 
 8vo. 3s. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE, founded on Lectures delivered at 
 
 the Royal Institution in 1861 and 1863. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 21s. 
 HIBBERT LECTURES ON THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF 
 
 RELIGION, as illustrated by the Religions of India. Crown 8vo. js. 6d. 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE SCIENCE OF RELIGION ; Four 
 
 Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution. Crown 8vo. js. 6d. 
 NATURAL RELIGION. The Gifford Lectures, delivered before the 
 
 University of Glasgow in 1888. Crown 8vo. xos. 6d. 
 
 PHYSICAL RELIGION. The Gifford Lectures, delivered before the 
 
 University of Glasgow in 1890. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RELIGION : The Gifford Lectures delivered 
 
 before the University of Glasgow in 1891. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 ^Continued. 
 
16 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 MAX MULLEK, (F.)— (Continued). 
 
 THEOSOPHY OR PSYCHOLOGICAL RELIGION : the Gifford 
 
 Lectures delivered before the University of Glasgow in 1892. Crown 8vo. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF THOUGHT. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 THREE INTRODUCTORY LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE OF 
 
 THOUGHT. 8vo. zs. 6d. 
 
 BIOGRAPHIES OF WORDS, AND THE HOME OF THE ARYAS. 
 
 Crown 8vo. js. 6d. 
 INDIA, WHAT CAN IT TEACH US? Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d, 
 
 A SANSKRIT GRAMMAR FOR BEGINNERS. New and Abridged 
 
 Edition. By A. A. MacDonell. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 MAY (Sir Thomas Erskine).— THE CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY 
 OF ENGLAND since the Accession of George III. 3 vols. Crown 8vo. 18s. 
 
 MEADE (L. T.) — DADDY'S BOY. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 DEB AND THE DUCHESS. Illust. by M. E. Edwards. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE BERESFORD PRIZE. Illustrated by M. E. Edwards. Cr. 8vo. 5s. 
 
 MEATS (The Earl of).— SOCIAL ARROWS: Reprinted Articles on 
 various Social Subjects. Crown 8vo. 55. 
 
 PROSPERITY OR PAUPERISM ? Physical, Industrial, and Technical 
 
 Training. Edited by the Earl of Meath. 8vo. $s. 
 
 MELVILLE (G-. J. Whyte).— Novels by. Crown 8vo. is. each, boards; 
 is. 6d. each, cloth. 
 
 The Gladiators. 
 The Interpreter. 
 Good for Nothing. 
 
 The Queen's Maries. 
 Holmby House. 
 Kate Coventry. 
 
 Digby Grand. 
 General Bounce. 
 
 MENDELSSOHN.— THE LETTERS OF FELIX MENDELSSOHN. 
 Translated by Lady Wallace. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. iar. 
 
 MERIVALS (Hev. Chas.).— HISTORY OF THE ROMANS UNDER 
 THE EMPIRE. Cabinet Edition,* 8 vols. Crown 8vo. 48J. Popular Edition, 
 8 vols. Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d. each. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC : a Short History of the 
 
 Last Century of the Commonwealth. i2mo. js. 6d. 
 
 GENERAL HISTORY OF ROME FROM B.C. 753 TO a.d. 476. 
 
 Cr. 8vo. js. 6d. 
 
 THE ROMAN TRIUMVIRATES. With Maps. Fcp. 8vo. zs. 6d. 
 
 MILL (James).— ANALYSIS OF THE PHENOMENA OF THE HUMAN 
 MIND. 2 vols. 8vo. 28*. 
 
 MILL (John Stuart).— PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
 Library Edition, 2 vols. 8vo. 30s. | People's Edition, 1 vol.Crowuovo.3-r. 6d. 
 
 A SYSTEM OF LOGIC. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 ON LIBERTY. Crown 8vo. is. *d. 
 
 ON REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT. Crown 8vo. zs. 
 
 UTILITARIANISM. 8vo. 5* 
 
 EXAMINATION OF SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILO- 
 SOPHY. 8vo. 16s. 
 NATURE, THE UTILITY OF RELIGION AND THEISM. Three 
 
 Essays, 8vo. $s. 
 
PUBLISHED BY MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, &» CO. 
 
 With Illustrations by F. 
 
 MILNER (George).— COUNTRY PLEASURES ; the Chronicle of a Year 
 chiefly in a Garden, Crown 8vo. y. &d. 
 
 MOLESWOETH (Mrs.).— SILVERTHORNS. 
 Noel Paton. Cr. 8vo. y. 
 
 THE PALACE IN THE GARDEN. With Illustrations. Cr. 8vo. 5* 
 
 THE THIRD MISS ST. QUENTIN. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 NEIGHBOURS. With Illustrations by M. Ellen Edwards. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 THE STORY OF A SPRING MORNING. With Illustrations. Cr.8vo.55. 
 
 STORIES OF THE SAINTS FOR CHILDREN : the Black Letter 
 
 Saints. With Illustrations. Royal i6mo. y. 
 
 MOORE (Edward).— DANTE AND HIS EARLY BIOGRAPHERS. 
 Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. 
 
 MULHALL (Michael G.).— HISTORY OF PRICES SINCE THE YEAR 
 1850. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 HANSEN (Dr. Fridtjof ).— THE FIRST CROSSING OF GREENLAND. 
 With numerous Illustrations and a Map." Crown 8vo. ys. 6d. 
 
 NAPIER.— THE LIFE OF SIR JOSEPH NAPIER, BART, EX-LORD 
 CHANCELLOR OF IRELAND. By Alex. Charles Ewald. 8vo. icj. 
 
 THE LECTURES, ESSAYS, AND LETTERS OF THE RIGHT 
 
 HON. SIR JOSEPH NAPIER, BART. 8vo. 12s. 6d. 
 
 NESBIT (E.).— LEAVES OF LIFE : Verses. Crown 8vo. 5*. 
 
 LAYS AND LEGENDS. First Series. Crown 8vo. 3 s. 6d. 
 
 Series. W T ith Portrait. Crown 8vo. y. 
 
 Second 
 
 KTEWMAN (Cardinal).— Works 
 Discourses to Mixed Congregations. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Cheap Edition, y. 6d. 
 Sermons on Various Occasions. Ca- 
 binet Edition, Cr. 8vo. 6s. Cheap 
 
 Edition, y. 6d. 
 The Idea of a University defined and 
 
 illustrated. Cabinet Edition, Cr. 8vo. 
 
 ys. Cheap Edition, Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 Historical Sketches. Cabinet Edition, 
 
 3 vols. Crown 8vo. 6j\ each. Cheap 
 
 Edition, 3 vols. Cr. 8vo. 35. 6d. each. 
 The Arians of the Fourth Century. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. bs. 
 
 Cheap Edition, Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 Select Treatises of St. Athana3ius in 
 
 Controversy with the Arians. Freely 
 
 Translated. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 
 
 15s. 
 Discussions and Arguments onYarious 
 
 Subjects. Cabinet Edition, Crown 
 
 8vo. 6s. Cheap Edition, Crown 
 
 8vo. y. 6d. 
 Apologia Pro Yita Sua. Cabinet Ed. , 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap Ed. 35. 6d. 
 Development of Christian Doctrine. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 
 Cheap Edition, Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 by:- 
 
 Certain Difficulties felt by Anglicans 
 in Catholic Teaching Considered. 
 
 Cabinet Edition. Vol. I. Crown 8vo. 
 ys. 6d. ; Vol. II. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 Cheap Edition, 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 
 3.5-. 6d. each. 
 
 The Via Media of the Anglican Church, 
 Illustrated in Lectures, &c. Cabinet 
 Edition, 2 vols. Cr. 8vo. 6s. each. 
 Cheap Edition, 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 
 y. 6d. each. 
 
 Essays, Critical and Historical. Cabi- 
 net Edition, 2 vols. Crown 8vo. \o.s. 
 Cheap Edition, 2 vols. Cr. 8vo. ys. 
 
 Biblical and Ecclesiastical Miracles. 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Cheap Edition, Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 Present Position of Catholics in Eng- 
 land. Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 
 ys. 6d. Cheap Edition, Crown 8vo. 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Tracts. 1. Dissertatiunculas. 2. On 
 the Text of the Seven Epistles of St. 
 Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of 
 Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. 
 St. Cyril's Formula. 6. Ordo de 
 Tempore. 7. Douay Version of 
 Scripture. Crown 8vo. 8s. 
 
 [Continued. 
 
18 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 NEWMAN (Cardinal).— "Works by -.—{continued). 
 
 Loss and Gain : a Tale. Cabinet 
 Edition, Crown 8vo. 65. Cheap 
 Edition, Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 The Dream of Gerontius. i6mo. 6d. 
 
 An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of 
 Assent. Cabinet Edition, Crown 
 8vo. 7s. 6d. Cheap Edition, Crown 
 8vo. 3-f. 6d. 
 
 Callista : a Tale of the Third Century. 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Cheap Edition, Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d. 
 
 sewed, is. cloth. 
 Yerses on Various Occasions. Cabinet 
 Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap 
 Edition, Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 %* For Cardinal Newman's other Works see Messrs. Longmans & Co.'s 
 Catalogue of Theological Works. 
 
 WOE-TON (Charles L.).— A HANDBOOK OF FLORIDA. 49 Maps and 
 Plans. Fcp. 8vo. $s. 
 
 O'BRIEN (William).— WHEN WE WERE BOYS: A Novel. Cr. 8vo. 
 2.S. 6d. 
 
 OLIPHANT (Mrs.).— MADAM. Crown 8vo. is. boards ; is. 6d. clcxh. 
 IN TRUST. Crown 8vo. is. boards ; is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 OMAN (C. W. C.) .— A HISTORY OF GREECE FROM THE EARLIEST 
 TIMES TO THE MACEDONIAN CONQUEST. With Maps. Crown 8vo. 
 4s. 6d. 
 
 PARKES (Sir Henry). — FIFTY YEARS IN THE MAKING OF 
 AUSTRALIAN HISTORY. With Portraits. 2 vo!s. 8vo. 32^. 
 
 PAUL (Hermann).— PRINCIPLES OF THE HISTORY OF LANGUAGE. 
 Translated by H. A. Strong. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 PAYN (James).— THE LUCK OF THE DARRELLS. Cr. 8vo. is. bds. ; 
 is. 6d. cl. 
 
 THICKER THAN WATER. Crown 8vo. is. boards; is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 PERRING (Sir Philip).— HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. 8vo. 
 js. 6d. 
 
 THE ' WORKS AND DAYS ' OF MOSES. Crown 8vo. 3.?. 6d. 
 
 PHILLIPPS-WOLLEY (C.).— SNAP : a Legend of the Lone Mountain. 
 With 13 Illustrations by H. G. Willink. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 POLE (W.).-THE THEORY OF THE MODERN SCIENTIFIC GAME 
 OF WHIST. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 POOLE (W. H. and Mrs.).— COOKERY FOR THE DIABETIC. Fcp. 
 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 PRAEGER (F.).— WAGNER AS I KNEW HIM. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 PRATT (A. E., F.R.G.S.).— TO THE SNOWS OF TIBET THROUGH 
 CHINA. With 33 Illustrations and a Map. 8vo. 18s. 
 
 PRENDERGAST ( JohnP.).— IRELAND, FROM THE RESTORATION 
 TO THE REVOLUTION, 1660-1690. 8vo. 5*. 
 
PUBLISHED BY 'MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 
 
 PROCTOR (R.A.).— Works by:— 
 Old and New Astronomy. 410. 365. 
 The Orbs Around Us. Crown 8vo. 55. 
 Other Worlds than Ours. With 14 
 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. $s. Cheap 
 
 Edition, 3.?. 6d. 
 The Moon. Crown 8vo. 5J. 
 Universe of Stars. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 Larger Star Atlas for the Library, in 
 
 12 Circular Maps, with Introduction 
 
 and 2 Index Pages. Folio, 15J. or 
 
 Maps only, 12.?. 6d. 
 The Student's Atlas. In 12 Circular 
 
 Maps. 8vo. s s - 
 New Star Atlas. In 12 Circular Maps. 
 
 Crown 8vo. $s. 
 Light Science for Leisure Hours. 
 
 3 vols. Crown 8vo. 55. each. 
 Chance and Luck. Crown 8vo. 2s. 
 
 boards ; zs. 6d. cloth. 
 Pleasant Ways in Science. Cr.Svo. $s. 
 
 Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d. 
 How to Play Whist : with the Lawsand 
 
 Etiquette of Whist. Crown 8vo. $s.6d. 
 Home Whist : an Easy Guide to 
 
 Correct Play. i6mo. is. 
 
 The Stars in their Season. 12 Maps. 
 
 Royal 8vo. $s. 
 Star Primer. Showing the Starry Sky 
 
 Week by Week, in 24 Hourly Maps. 
 
 Crown 4to. 2s. 6d. 
 The Seasons Pictured in 48 Sun-Yiews 
 
 of the Earth, and 24 Zodiacal Maps, 
 
 &c. Demy 410. $s. 
 Strength and Happiness. With 9 
 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. $s. 
 Strength: How to get Strong and 
 
 keep Strong. Crown 8vo. 2s. 
 Rough Ways Made Smooth. Essays on 
 
 Scientific Subjects. Crown 8vo. 5^. 
 
 Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d. 
 Our Place among Infinities. Cr. 8vo. 55. 
 The Expanse of Heayen. Cr. 8vo. 55. 
 The Great Pyramid. Crown 8vo. $s. 
 Myths and Marvels of Astronomy 
 
 Crown 8vo. $s. 
 Nature Studies. By Grant Allen, A. 
 
 Wilson, T. Foster, E. Clodd, and 
 
 R. A. Proctor. Crown 8vo. 55. 
 Leisure F.eadings. By E. Clodd, A. 
 
 Wilson, T. Foster, A. C. Ranyard, 
 
 and R. A. Proctor. Crown 8vo. 5^. 
 
 RANSOME (Cvril).-THE RISE OF CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERN- 
 MENT IN ENGLAND : being a Series of Twenty Lectures. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 READER (Emily E.).— VOICES FROM FLOWER-LAND : a Birthday 
 Book and Language of Flowers. Illustrated by Ada Brooke. Royal i6mo. 
 Cloth, 2s. 6d. ; vegetable vellum, 3s. 6d'. 
 
 REPLY (A) TO DR 
 natural Religion '. 
 
 LIGHTFOOT'S ESSAYS. 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 By the Author of ' Super- 
 RIBOT (Th.).— THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ATTENTION. Crown 8vo. 3s. 
 
 RICH (A.).— A DICTIONARY OF ROMAN AND GREEK ANTIQUITIES. 
 With 2000 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo. js. 6d. 
 
 RICHARDSON (Dr. B. W.).-NATIONAL HEALTH. A Review of 
 the Works of Sir Edwin Chadwick, K.C.B. Crown 4s. 6d. 
 
 RIVERS (T. and T. F.).— THE MINIATURE FRUIT GARDEN ; or, 
 The Culture of Pyramidal and Bush Fruit Trees. With 32 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo. 4s. 
 
 RIVERS (T.).— THE ROSE AMATEUR'S GUIDE. Fcp. 8vo. 4*. 6d. 
 
 ROBERTSON (A.).— THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER, and other Aus- 
 tralian Tales. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ROGET (John Lewis).— A HISTORY OF THE 'OLD WATER 
 COLOUR ' SOCIETY. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. 42^. 
 
 ROGET (Peter M.).— THESAURUS OF ENGLISH WORDS AND 
 PHRASES. Crown 8vo. icjt. 6d. 
 
A CATALOGUE OF BOOK'S IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 ROMANES (George John, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S.).— DARWIN, AND 
 AFTER DARWIN : an Exposition of the Darwinian Theory and a Discus- 
 sion of Post-Darwinian Questions. Part I. — The Darwinian Theory. With a 
 Portrait of Darwin and 125 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. ior. bd. 
 
 RONALDS (Alfred).— THE FLY-FISHER'S ETYMOLOGY. With 20 
 
 Coloured Plates. 8vo. 14J. 
 ROSSETTI (Maria Francesca).— A SHADOW OF DANTE : being an 
 
 Essay towards studying Himself, his World, and his Pilgrimage. Cr.Svo. 105.60'. 
 ROUND (J. H., M.A.).— GEOFFREY DE MANDEVILLE : a Study of 
 
 the Anarchy. 8vo. i6j. 
 RUSSELL— A LIFE OF LORD JOHN RUSSELL. By Spencer Walpole. 
 
 2 vols. 8vo. 36^. Cabinet Edition, 2 vols. Crown 8vo. \2S. 
 
 SEEBOHM (Frederick). — THE OXFORD REFORMERS — JOHN 
 COLET, ERASMUS, AND THOMAS MORE. 8vo. 145. 
 
 THE ENGLISH VILLAGE COMMUNITY Examined in its Re- 
 lations to the Manorial and Tribal Systems, &c. 13 Maps and Plates. 8vo. i6i. 
 
 THE ERA OF THE PROTESTANT REVOLUTION. With Map. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo. 2s. bd. 
 
 SEWELL (Elizabeth M.).— STORIES AND TALES. Crown 8vo. is. bd 
 each, cloth plain ; 2s. bd. each, cloth extra, gilt edges : — 
 Amy Herbert. Katharine Ashton. Gertrude. 
 
 The Earl's Daughter. Margaret Percival. Ivors. 
 
 The Experience of Life. Laneton Parsonage. Home Life. 
 
 A Glimpse of the World. Ursula. After Life. 
 
 Cleve Hall. 
 SHAKESPEARE.— BOWDLER'S FAMILY SHAKESPEARE. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 With 36 Woodcuts, 14J. , or in 6 vols. Fcp. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 OUTLINES OF THE LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. By J. O. 
 
 Halliwell-Phillipps. With Illustrations. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. ^1 is. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. By James Walter. With 500 
 
 Illustrations. Imp. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 THE SHAKESPEARE BIRTHDAY BOOK. By Mary F. Dunbar. 
 
 32mo. is. bd. cloth. With Photographs, 321110. 5^. Drawing Room Edition, 
 with Photographs, Fcp. 8vo. \os. bd. 
 
 SHERBROOKE (Viscount).— LIFE AND LETTERS OF THE RIGHT 
 HON. ROBERT LOWE, VISCOUNT SHERBROOKE, G.C.B. By A. 
 Patchett Martin. With 5 Copper-plate Portraits, &c. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 SHIRRES (L. P.).- 
 
 Crown 8vo. bs. 
 
 SIDGWTCK (Alfred). 
 
 8vo. bs. 
 
 SILVER LIBRARY, The.— Crown 
 BAKER'S (Sir S. W.) Eight Years in 
 
 Ceylon. With 6 Illustrations. 
 Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. 
 
 With 6 Illustrations. 
 BARING-GOULD'S (S.) Curious Myths 
 
 of the Middle Ages. 
 Origin and Development of 
 
 Religious Belief. 2 vols. 
 BRASSEY'S (Lady) A Voyage in the 
 
 * Sunbeam '. With 66 Illustrations. 
 
 -AN ANALYSIS OF THE IDEAS OF ECONOMICS. 
 
 -DISTINCTION : and the Criticism of Beliefs. Cr. 
 
 8vo. price 3s. bd. each volume. 
 
 CLODD'S (E.) Story of Creation : a 
 Plain Account of Evolution. With 
 77 Illustrations. 
 
 CONYBEARE (Rev. W. J.) and HOW- 
 SON'S (Very Rev. J. S.) Life and 
 Epistles of St. Paul. 46 Illustra- 
 tions. 
 
 DOUGALL'S (L.) Beggars All ; a Novel. 
 
 DOYLE'S (A. Conan) Micah Clarke : a 
 Tale of Monmouth's Rebellion. 
 
 \Continued. 
 
PUBLISHED BY MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 21 
 
 SILVER LIBRARY, The.-(COT/wwrf). 
 
 DOYLE'S (A. Conan) The Captain of 
 
 the Folestar, and other Tales. 
 FROUDE'S (J. A.) Short Studies on 
 Great Subjects. 4 vols. 
 
 The History of England, 
 
 from the Fall of Wolsey to the 
 Defeat of the Spanish Armada. 12 
 vols. 
 
 Csesar : a Sketch. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle : a History 
 
 of his Life. i795" l8 35- 2 vols - 
 1834-1881. 2 vols. 
 
 The Two Chiefs of Dunboy : 
 
 an Irish Romance of the Last 
 Century. 
 GLEIG'S (Rev. G. R.) Life of the Duke 
 
 of Wellington. With Portrait. 
 HAGGARD'S (H. R.) She : A History of 
 Adventure. 32 Illustrations. 
 
 Allan Quatermain. With 
 
 20 Illustrations. 
 
 Colonel Quaritch, Y.C. : a 
 
 Tale of Country Life. 
 Cleopatra. With 29 Full- 
 page Illustrations. 
 
 Beatrice. 
 
 HASTE'S (Bret) In the Carquinez 
 
 Woods, and other Stories. 
 HELMHOLTZ'S (Professor) Popular | 
 Lectures on Scientific Subjects. 
 With 68 Woodcuts. 2 vols. 
 HOWITT'S (W.) Visits to Remarkable 
 
 Places. 80 Illustrations. 
 JEFFERIES' (R.) The Story of My 
 Heart. "With Portrait. 
 
 Field and Hedgerow. Last 
 
 Essays of. With Portrait. 
 
 Red Deer. W r ith 17 Illust. 
 
 KNIGHT'S (E. F.) Cruise of the 
 'A'erte,' a Search for Treasure. 
 With 2 Maps and 23 Illustrations. 
 LEES (J. A.) and CLUTTERBUCK'S 
 (W. J.) B.C. 1887. British Columbia. 
 75 Illustrations. 
 MACAU LAY'S (Lord) Essays— Lays of 
 Ancient Rome. In 1 vol. With Por- 
 trait and Illustrations to the ' Lays '. 
 MACLEOD'S (H. D.) The Elements of 
 
 Banking. 
 MARSHMAN'S (J. C.) Memoirs of Sir 
 
 Henry Hayelock. 
 MAX MULLER'S (F.) India, What can 
 it teach us ? 
 
 Introduction to the Science 
 
 of Religion. 
 
 MERIYALE'S (Dean) History of the 
 Romans under the Empire. 8 vols. 
 
 MILL'S (J. S.) Principles of Political 
 Economy. 
 
 System of Logic. 
 
 MILNER'S (G.) Country Pleasures. 
 
 KEY-MAN'S (Cardinal) Historical 
 Sketches. 3 vols. 
 
 Fifteen Sermons Preached 
 
 before the University of Oxford. 
 
 Apologia Pro Yita Sua. 
 
 Callista : a Tale of the Third 
 
 Century. 
 
 Loss and Gain : a Tale. 
 
 — Essays, Critical and His- 
 torical. 2 vols. 
 
 Sermons on Various Occa- 
 
 sions. 
 Lectures on the Doctrine of 
 
 Justification. 
 Fifteen Sermons Preached 
 
 before the University of Oxford. 
 — An Essay on the Develop- 
 
 ment of Christian Doctrine. 
 The Arians of the Fourth 
 
 Century. 
 
 sions 
 
 Yerses on Various Occa- 
 
 Difticulties felt by Anglicans 
 in Catholic Teaching Considered. 
 2 vols. 
 ■ The Idea of a University 
 
 defined and Illustrated. 
 Biblical and Ecclesiastical 
 
 Miracles. 
 Discussions and Arguments 
 
 on Various Subjects. 
 
 — Grammar of Assent. 
 
 The Via Media of the An- 
 glican Church. 2 vols. 
 
 Parochial and Plain Ser- 
 mons. 8 vols. 
 
 Selection from ' Parochial 
 
 and Plain Sermons'. 
 Discourses Addressed to 
 
 Mixed Congregations. 
 Present Position of Ca- 
 
 tholics in England. 
 Sermons bearing upon Sub- 
 
 jects of the Day. 
 PHILLIPPS-WQLLEY'S (C.) Snap : a 
 
 Legend of the Lone Mountains. 13 
 
 Illustrations. 
 PROCTOR'S (R. A.) Other Worlds than 
 
 Ours. 
 
 [Continued '. 
 
22 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATI RE 
 
 SILVER LIBRARY, The.— {Continued.) 
 
 PROCTOR'S (R. A.) Rough Ways made WEYMAN'S (Stanley J.) The House of 
 Smooth. the Wolf: a Romance. 
 
 — Pleasant Ways in Science. WOOD'S (Rev. J. G.) Petland Re- 
 
 STANLEY'S(Bishop)Familiar History visited. With 33 Illustrations. 
 
 of Birds. With 160 Illustrations. Strange Dwellings. With 
 
 STEVENSON (Robert Louis) and OS- ! 60 Illustrations. 
 
 BOURNE'S (Lloyd) The Wrong Out of Doors. With 11 Illus- 
 
 3ox. trations. 
 
 SMITH (R. Bos worth).— CARTHAGE AND THE CARTHAGINIANS. 
 Maps, Plans, &c. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 STANLEY (E.).— A FAMILIAR HISTORY OF BIRDS. With 160 Wood- 
 cuts. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. 
 
 STEPHEN (Sir James).— ESSAYS IN ECCLESIASTICAL BIO- 
 GRAPHY. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 STEPHENS (H. Morse).— A HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLU- 
 TION. 3 vols. 8vo. Vol. I. iSs. Vol. II. i8j. [Vol. III. in the press. 
 
 STEVENSON (Robt. Louis).-A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 Small Fcp. 8vo. $s. 
 
 A CHILD'S GARLAND OF SONGS, Gathered from « A Child's 
 
 Garden of Verses'. Set to Music by C. ViLLiERS Stanford, Mus. Doc. 
 ato. 2S. sewed, 35. 6c/. cloth gilt. 
 
 , THE DYNAMITER. Fcp. 8vo. is. sewed, is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE. Fcp. 8vo. 
 
 is. sewed, is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 STEVENSON (Robert Louis) and OSBOURNE (Lloyd).— THE 
 WRONG BOX. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 STOCK (St. George).— DEDUCTIVE LOGIC. Fcp. 8vo. 3 s. 6d. 
 
 STRONG (Herbert A.), LOGEMAN ( Willem S.) and WHEELER 
 (B. I.).— INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE HISTORY OF 
 LANGUAGE. 8vo. ioj. 6d. 
 
 SULLY (James).— THE HUMAN MIND. 2 vols. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY. 8vo. 9 s. 
 
 THE TEACHER'S HANDBOOK OF PSYCHOLOGY. Cr. 8vo. 5* 
 
 SUPERNATURAL RELIGION; an Inquiry into the Reality of Divine Revela- 
 tion. 3 vols. 8vo. 36J. 
 REPLY (A) TO DR. LIGHTFOOTS ESSAYS. By the Author ot 'Super- 
 natural Religion '. 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 SUTTNER (Bertha Von).— LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS (Die Waffen 
 Nieder) : The Autobiography of Martha Tilling. Translated by T. Holme-. 
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