^??? >. >> "^^. > « 3K> ^ K> >> ^ w>»j>:>Z> 9K>^ yy a ► >c>ai>_> > >- ■ » j» j> >-'--» i>j» -^ ■ > ^^ > :» V >y^->-3* S> >:> ^ >-!)>:>:> ^> O^X^- ??1 > > > > > > ^ > ;>^ > > > > j> » > > >> >>» > >>>>:» > > > J» ,>^> 5 ^^;;- 3» >» :»^ ■ffm^J:'^'^': ^^^ ,«>>.«^A^.' '^^f^m, GIFT OF A. F. Morrison ^/5^ •Cma^aa^P ^D^K-^^'A ->'^.. AA,A^1}^.A a.^O^Aa W^^^^^^^^/^^^^ ^^hMk- a.'v^aAaa,^;.,,,^ StlA^O^?'*' !??!????fg^lf55C2S:^^^ .kr^h^r^"^^^' ^^'tZf^^^^^.^^'^^''^\ ,^^^ftA>{5*55?' te' n:s:-c:^c?^:;;;;;;C;A^:'::c;-i;*;::RA:rA.Ar^K ?sS««»S ,(i;Ai«^*»2^':I':^;;^.;r^.4' ^. LONGFELLOW'S POETICAL WORKS. lyiTH 83 ILLUSTRATIONS BY SIR yOHN GILBERT, R.A. AND OTHER ARTISTS LONGFtLLOW S HOUSi; AT CAMBRIDGE M \SS. AUTHOR'S COPYRIGHl EDITION LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL NEW YORK: 9, LAFAYETTE PLACE 1883 GIFT OP R- r. Ol » ,^(2.'i ,S c5 /O THE AUTHOR'S COPYRIGHT EDITION OF THE POETICAL WORKS OF HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. This edition contains not only every poem printed in any other edition issued in England, but 86 COPYBIGHT POEMS which can o^ilv be found in the Author's Copyright Edition, published by GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, Broadway, Ludgate Hill. igagaggsggggaggggagg^gsgggggggggggggggggggggggsegseai CONTENTS. VOICES OF THE NIGHT (1839). PAGE Prelude i Hymn to the Night .... 3 A Psalm of Life 3 Footsteps of Angels .... 3 The Reaper and the Flowers . . 5 The !i?ht of Stars . The Beleaguered City Midnight Mass for the Dying Year L'Envoi ...... PAGE 5 5 6 7 8 EARLIER POEM.S. An April Day 9 The Spirit of Poetry . Sunrise on the Hills 13 13 15 Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem 11 Woods in Winter Burial of the Minnisink The Skeleton in Armour The Luck of Edenhall . BALLADS (1842). 15 I The Wreck of the Hespeinis . . 17 I The Elected Knight MLSCELLANEOUS POEMS (1841, 1846, 1858). The Village Blacksmith Endymion , The Two Locks of Hair God's-Acre It is not always May . The Rainy Day . To the River Charles . Blind Bartimeus The Goblet of Life . Maidenhood . Excelsior . POEMS ON SLAVERY (1843). To William E. Channlng The Slave's Dream The Slave in the Dismal Swamp The Good Part .... The Slave Singing at Midnight The Witnesses . . . . The Quadroon Girl The Warning . . . . THE BELFRY OF BRUGES, AND OTHER POEMS (1845). Carillon .... The Belfry of Bruges A Gleam of Sunshine Nuremberg _ . . . The f )ccultation of Orion The Arsenal at Springfield To a Child . The Norman Baron . Rain in Summer . The Bridge . To the Driving Cloud Curfew tiimi^wmmmwA^jtji:.^' CONTENTS. THE SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE (1849). Dedication By the Seaside. The Building of the Ship The Evening Star . The Secret of the Sea . TwiUght . Sir Humphrey Gilbert The Lighthouse The Fire of Driftwood By the Fireside. Resignation . PAGE 45 The Builders Sand of the Desert in an He Glass .... The Open Window Pegasus in Pound . King Witlafs Drinking-Horn Tegner's Death Gaspar Becerra . The Singers . . . . Suspiria .... Hymn .... PAGE 55 TRANSLATIONS. The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille . 61 | A Christmas Carol EVANGELINE: A Tale of Acadie (1847). 72 I Part the Second THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH (1858). I. Miles Standish . . . . 105 I 11. Love and Friendship . . 107 III. The Lover's Errand . . . 109 IV. John Alden .... 114 V. The Sailing of the May-flower 116 VI. Priscilla 120 VII. The March of Miles Standish 121 .•III. The Spinning-wheel . . . 124 i.x. The Wedding-day . . .126 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA (1842). The Peace-Pipe The Four Winds Hiawatha's Childhood . Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis Hiawatha's Fasting Hiawatha's Friends . Hiawatha's Sailing. Hiawatha's Fishing . Hiawatha and the Pearl Feather Hiawatha's Wooing . Hiawatha's Wedding Feast The Son of the Evening Star xill. Blessing the Corn-fields . XIV. Picture-writing . XV. Hiawatha's Lamentation XVI. Pau-puk-Keewis XVII. The Hunting of Pau-puk Keewis .... XVIII. The Death of Kwasind . XIX. The Ghosts XX. The Famine . XXI. The White Man's Foot XXII. Hiawatha's Departure . Vocabulary to Hiawatha . THE SPANISH STUDENT (1843) JUDAS MACCAByEUS (1872) 229 TRANSLATIONS. Coplas de Manrique The Good Shepherd . The Image of God To-morrow The Native Land . The Brook .... The Celestial Pilot. The Te'rrestrial Paradise . Beatrice Spring The Grave , The Happiest Land King Christian The Wave . The Dead The Bird and the Ship Whither The Castle by the Sea Song of the Bell The Black Knight Beware ! ^m^.mm^t?m^m^smi^i^^^i^mmmmmm^< mmmmKi*3©K>:i i CONTENTS. j On Mrs. Kemble's Readings from Shakespeare 297 i^' TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN (1863). I The Poet's Tale— The Biids of Killingworth . . . . Part First. Prelude.— The Wayside Inn . The Landlord's Tale.— Paul R vere's Ride Interlude .... The Student's Tale. — The Falcon of Ser Federigo Interlude The Spanish Jew's Tale. — The Legend of Rabbi Ben Levi . 309 Interlude . . . . . 311 The Sicilian's Tale. — King Ro bert of Sicily . Interlude . . . . _ _ The Musician's Tale.— The Saga of King Olaf I. The Challenge of Thor . 315 II. King Olafs Return . . 315 in. ThoraofRimol . . 316 IV. Queen Sigrid the Haughty 317 V. The Skerry of Shrieks . 318 VI. The Wraith of Odin . . 319 vii. Iron-Beard . . . 320 VIII. Gudrun . . . . 321 IX. Thangbrand the Priest . 321 X. Raud the Strong . . 322 XI. Bishop Sigurd at Salten Fiord . . . . 322 XII. King Olafs Christmas . 323 XIII. The Building of the Long Serpent . . .3=4 XIV. The Crew of the Long Serpent . . . . 325 XV. A Little Bird in the Air . 326 XVI. Queen Thyri and the Angelica Stalks . . 326 xv;i. King Svend of the Forked Beard . . . 327 xviii. King Olaf and Earl Sig- va'd . . . . 329 XIX. King Olafs War-Horns . 329 x.v. Einar Tamberskelver . 330 XXI. King Olaf '> Death-Drink 330 XXII. The Nun of Nidaros . 331 Interlude ..... 332 The Theologian's Tale. — Torque- mada . . . . 333 InterluJe 337 THE GOLDEN 387 337 341 358 Finale Part Second. Prelude The Sicilian's Tale.— The Bell of Atri 343 Interlude 344 The Spanish Jew's Tale.^Kam- balu ...... 345 Interlude 346 The Student's Tale.— The Cob- bler of Hagenau . . . 346 Interlude 349 The Musician's Tale.— The Bal- lad of Carmilhan . . . 350 Interlude 353 The Poet's Tale.— Lady Went- worth 354 Interlude. . . . . . 356 The Theologian's Tale. — The Legend Beautiful . . -357 Interlude 358 'ITie Student's Second Tale. The Baron of St. Castine. Part Third (1873). Prelude 362 The Spanish Jew's Tale. — Azrael 363 Interlude 364 The Poet's Tale.— Charlemagne . 364 Interlude 365 The Student's Tale. — Emma and Eginhard ..... 366 Interlude 369 The Theologian's Tale.— Eliza- beth 370 Int.rlude 374 The Sicilian's Tale.— The Monk of Casal-Maggiore . . . 375 Interlude . . . . . . 379 The Spanish Jew's Second Tale. — Scanderbeg .... 380 Interlude. ... . . 381 The MusiciaYi's Tale. —The Mothers Ghost . . .382 Interlude 383 The Landlord's Tale. —The Rhyme of Sir Christopher . 3S4 : Finale 386 Prologi'e I. I. The Castle of Vautsberg on the Rhine . ... II. Courtyard of the Castle II. I. A Farm in the Odenwald II. \ Room in the Farm-House III. Elsie's Chamber . . . IV. The Chamber of Gottlieb and Ursula . . . . LEGEND (1851). V. A Village Church . . . 399 VI. A Room in the Farm-House 403 VII. In the Garden . . . . 403 III. I. A Street in Strasburg . . 404 I II. Square in Front of the Ca- thedral 4<^ I III. In the Cathedral . . . 408 IV. The Nativity. A Miracle- 1 Play ... . '»;jl6afc«S3!taw6Jt^^zg^i^^i«grej^as'CT«ij'B'^yj CONTENTS. THE GOLDEN LEGEND-f<»«//;/wc>cX><:>c>i; :»c»cXX>c»j»c>c->c»c»^»c»c>o>c5 A slumberous sound, a sound tliat brings The feelings of a dream, As of innumerable wings, As, when a bell no longer swings. Faint the hollow murmur rings O'er meadow, lake, and stream. And dreams of that which cannot die, Bright visions, came to me, As lapped in thought I used to lie, And gaze into the summer sky, Where the sailing clouds went by. Like ships upon the sea ; Dreams that the soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quelled ; Old legends of the monkish page, Traditions of the saint and sage. Tales that have the rime of age. And chronicles of Eld. And, loving still these quaint old themes. Even in the city's throng I feel the freshness of the streams. That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams. Water the green land of dreams. The holy land of song. Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings The spring, clothed like a bride. When nestling buds unfold their wings. And bishop's-caps have golden rings, Musing upon many things, I sought the woodlands wide. The green trees whispered low and mild ; It was a sound of joy ! They were my playmates when a child. And rocked me in their arms so wild ! Still they looked at me and smiled. As if I were a boy ; And ever whispered, mild and low, " Ccme, be a child once more ! " And waved their long arms to and fro. And beckoned solemnly and slow ; Oh, I could not choose but go Into tlie woodlands hoar, — Into the blithe and breathing air. Into the solemn wood, Solemn and silent everywhere ! Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer ! Like one in prayer I stood. Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines ; .Abroad their fan-like branches grew. And, where the sunshine darted through. Spread a vapour soft and blue, In long and sloping lines. And, falling on my weary brain, Like a fast-falling shower. The dreams of youth can;e btck again, Low lispings of the summer rain, Dropping on the ripened grain, As once upon the flower. Visions of childhood ! Stay, oh stay ! Ye were so sweet and w ild ! And distant voices seemed to say, " It cannot be ! They pass away ! Other themes demand thy lay : Thou art no more a child ! " The land of Song within thee lies, \\'atered by living springs ; The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes Are gates uiito that Paradise, Holy thoughts, like stars, arise. Its clouds arc angels' wings. " Learn, that henceforth thy song shall be. Not mountains capped with snow, Xor forests sounding like the sea. Nor i-ivers flowing ceaselessly. Where the woodlands bend to see The bending heavens below. ' ' There is a forest where the din Of iron branches sounds I A mighty river roars between. And whosoever looks therein Sees the heavens all black with sin. Sees not its depths, nor bounds. " Athwart the swinging branches cast, Soft rays of sunshine pour ; Then comes the fearful wintry blast ; Our hopes, like withered leaves, fall fast; Pallid lips say, ' It is past ! We can return no more ! ' "Look then into thine lieart, and write ! Yes, into Life's deep stream ! .Ml forms of sorrow and delight, ■All solemn Voices of the Night, That can sootiie thee, or affright, — Be these henceforth thy theme." VOICES OF THE NIGHT. HYMN TO THE XIGHT. 'A(r-aaci), Tpi'/VAij-TOs. I HEARD the trailing garments of tlie Night Sweep through her marble halls ! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls ! I felt her presence, by its spell of miglit, Stoop o'er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes. That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes. From the cool cisterns of the mid- night air My spirit drank repose ; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, — From those deep cisterns flows. O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before ! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more. Peace ! Peace ! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! Descend with broad-winged flight, The welcome, the thrice-prayed-for, the most fair. The best-beloved Night ! A PSALM OF LIFE. \VH.\T THE HEART OF THE YOUNG M.\N SAID TO THE PSALMIST. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers. And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. 3 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle. In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead. Lives of great men all remind us, We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing. With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait. FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. \\'hen the hours of Day are num- bered. And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight ; Ere the evening lamps are lighted. And, like phantoms grim and tall, .Shadows from the fitful fire-light Dance upon the parlour wall ; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door ; The beloved, the truc-hearled, Come to visit me once more ; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife. By the road-side fell and perished. Weary with the march of life ! B 2 LONGFELLOW S POETICAL WORKS. They, the holy ones and weakly, Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly, Spake with us on earth no more ! And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given. More than all things else to love me. And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine. Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, I Looking downward from the skies. I Uttered not, jet comprehended, j Is the spirit's voiceless prayer. Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, Breathing from her lips of air. O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died ! 4 THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. " Sliall I have nought that is fair?" saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to nie, I will give them all back a^ain." He gazed at the flowets with tearful eyes. He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves, " My Lord has need of these flowerets g«iy." The Reaper said, and smiled ; " Dear tokens of the earth are they, \Vhcre he was once a child. "They shall -all bloom in fields of light. Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white. These sacred blossoms wear." And the mother gave, in tears and pain. The flowers she most did love ; She knew she should find them agam In the fields of liirlit above. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day ; 'Twas an angel visited the green eartli, And took the flowers away. THE LIGHT OF STARS. The night is come, but not too soon ; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. Tiiere is no light in earth or heaven. But the cold light of stars ; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars. 5 Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams ? O no ! from that blue tent above, A hero's armour gleams. And earnest thoughts within me rise, When I behold afar, Suspended in the evening skies, The shield of that red star. star of strength ! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain ; Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand. And I am strong again. Within my breast there is no light, But the eold light of stars ; 1 give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars. The star of the unconquered will. He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart. Be resolute and calm. O fear not in a world like this, And thou shall know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be stron"-. THE BELEAGUERED CITY. I HAVE read, in some old mar\ellous talc. Some legend strange and vague. That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead. There stood, as in an awful dream. The army of the dead. White as a sea-fog, landward bound. The spectral camp was seen. And with a sorrowful, deep sound, The ri\-er flowed between. No other voice nor sound was there, No drum, nor sentry's pace ; The mist-like banners clasped the air, .\s clouds with clouds embrace. But, wlicn the old cathedral bell, Proclaimed the morning prayer, The white pavilions rose and fell Ou the alarmed air. LONGFELLOW'S POETLCAL WORKS. Down the broad valley, fast and far, The troubled army fled ; Up rose the glorious morning star, The ghastly host was dead, I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, That strange and mystic scroll. That an army of phantoms, vast and wan, Beleaguer the human soul. Encamped beside Life's rushing In Fancy's misty light, [stream, Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam Portentous through the night. Upon its midnight battle-ground The spectral camp is seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, . Flows the River of Life between. No other voice, nor sound is there, In the army of the grave ; No other challenge breaks the air. But the rushing of Life's wave. And when the solemn and deep church bell Entreats the soul to pray. The midnight phantoms feel the spell, The shadows sweep away. Down the broad \'ale of Tears afar The spectral camp is fled ; Faith shineth as a morning star. Our ghastly fears are dead. FLOWER.S. Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwellcth by the castled Rhine, ■When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do ' shine. Stars they are, \>herein we read'our history. As astrologers and seers of eld ; Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, Like the burning stars, which they beheld. Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, God hath written in those stars above ; But not less in the bright flowerets under us Stands the revelation of his love. 6 3>C»O»O>O>O0 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. Bright and glorious is that revelation, | Written all over this great world of ours ; Making evident our own creation, In these stars of earth, — these golden flowers. And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing. Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part Of the self-same, universal being, Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining. Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day. Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay ; Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, Flaunting gaily in the golden light ; Large desires, with most uncertain issues. Tender wishes, blossoming at night ! These in flowers and men are more than seeming ; Workings are they of the self-same powers, Uliich the Poet, in no idle dreaming, Seeth in himself and in the flowers. Everywhere about us are they glow- ing. Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born ; Others, their blue eyes with tears o'cr- fiowing, Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ; Not alone in Spring's armorial bear- ingi And in Summer's green emblazoned field. But in arms of brave old Autunm's wearing. In the centre of his brazen shield ; Not alone in meadows and green alleys, On the ' mountain-top, and by the brink Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys. Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink ; 7 Not alone in her vast dome of glory, Not on graves of bird and beast alone. But in old cathedrals, high and hoary. On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone ; In the cottage of the rudest peasant. In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers. Speaking of the Past unto the Present, Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; In all places, then, and in all seasons. Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings. Teaching us, by mo:t persuasive reasons. How akin they are to human things. And with childlike, credulous affec- tion We behold their tender buds ex- pand ; Emblems of our own great resurrec- tion. Emblems of the bright and better land. MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR. Yes, the year is growing old. And his eye is pale and bleared ! Death, with frosty hand and cold, Plucks the old man by the beard, Sorely, — sorely ! The leaves arc falling, falling, Solemnly and slow ; Caw ! caw' ! the rooks are calling. It is a sound of woe, A sound of woe ! Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll ; They are chanting solemn masses, Singing, " Pray for this poor soul. Pray, — Pray ! " And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain, And patter their doleful prayers ; But their prayers are all in vain. All in vain ! There he stands in the foul weather, The foolish, fond Old Year, Crowned with wild flowers and with heather, Like weak, despised Lear, A king, — a king ! Then comes the summer-like day. Bids the old man rejoice ! His joy ! his last 1 O, the old man gray Loveth that ever-soft voice, Gentle and low. To the crimson woods he saith, — To the voice gentle and low Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath, — ' ' Pray do not mock me so ! Do not laugh at me ! " And now the sweet day is dead ; Cold in his arms it lies ; No stain from its breath is spread Over the glassy skies. No mist or stain ! Then, too, the Old Year dieth, And the forests utter a moan, Like the voice of one who crieth In the wlderness alone, " Vex not his ghost ! " Then comes, with an a\\-ful roar. Gathering and sounding on. The storm-wind from Labrador, The wind Euroclydon, The storm-wind ! Howl ! howl ! and from the forest Sweep the red leaves away ! Would the sins that thou abhorrest, O Soul ! could thus decay, And be swept away I For there shall come a mightier blast, Tliere shall be a darker day ; And the stars from heaven down-cast, Like red leaves be swept away I Kyrie, eleyson ! Christe, eleyson ! L'ENVOL Ve voices, that arose After the Evening's close. And whispered to my restless heart repose ! Go, breathe it in the ear Of all who doubt and fear, And say to them, "Be of good cheer ! " 9 cco»ee®ecc®eeeQeoceeoe®@e^g>®@eeQQei>»e®i^'QQ®eQ&ci»@QceQecco»c (; EARLIER POEMS. Ye sounds, so low and calm, That in the groves of balm Seemed to me like an angel's psalm ! Go, mingle yet once more With the perpetual roar Of the pine forest, dark and hoar ! Tongues of the dead, not lost. Rut speaking from death's frost, Like fiery tongues at Pentecost ! Glimmer, as funeral lamps. Amid the chills and damps Of the vast plain where Death camps ! (L'urlicr |locms. [written for the most part during my college life, and all OF them before the age of nineteen.] AN APRIL DAY. When the warm sun that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. I love the season well. When forest glades are teeming with bright forms. Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming-on of storms. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance and thrives ; Though stricken to the heart with Winter's cold. The drooping tree revives. The softly-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along The forest openings, ■When the bright sunset fills The silver woods with light, the green slope throws Its shadows in the hollows of the hills. And wide the upland glows. And when the eve is born. In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far. Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, And twinkles niany'a star. 9 Inverted in the tide, Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw ; And the fair trees look over, side by side. And see themselves below. Sweet April ! — many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed ; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought. Life's golden fruit is shed. AUTUMN. A'ith what a glory comes and goes the year ! The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers Of sunny skies, and cloudless times, enjoy Life's newness, and eartli's garniture spread out. And when the silver habit of the clouds Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with A sober gladness the old year takes up His high inheritance of golden fruits, A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene. There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, .\nd, from a beaker, full of richest dvcs, 3»goeeo«eeeee9ee)oeeeea>deQe«(»«e>6ee»ee»ee6>Qg'eeeQ®QQ8iQQQ®Q®Q^*' LONGFELLOW'S rOETICAL WORKS. Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on tlie mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and pas- sionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep- crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple y, How- leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wa\-side a-weary. Through I the trees 1 The golden robin moves. The purple I finch, That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, A winter bird, comes with its plain- tive whistle, And peeks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud From cottage roofs the warbling blue* bird sings, And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke. Sounds from the ihreshing-fioor the busy flail. O what a glory doth this world put on 10 EARLIER POEMS. For him who, with a fervent heat, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent ! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves, Shall have a voice and give him elo- quent teachings. He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death Has lifted up for all, that he shall go To his long resting-place without a tear HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM. AT THE CONSECRATION OF PU- L.\SKl'S B.VNNEK. When the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled head ; And the censer burning swung. Where, before the altar, hung The blood-red banner, that with prayer Had been consecrated there. And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while. Sung low in the dim, mysterious aiilc. " Take thy banner ! May it wave Proudly o'er the good and brave ; When the battles distant wail Rrcaks the sabbath of our vale, When the clarion's music thrills To the hearts of these lone hills. When the spear in conflict shakes, And the strong lance shivering breaks. " Take thy banner ! and, beneath The battle-cloud's encircling wreath. Guard it ! — till our homes are free ! Guard it !— God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour, In the breaking fortli of power, In the rush of steeds and men, His right hand will shield thee then. II "Take thy banner! But, when night Closes round tlie ghastly fight. If the vanquished warrior bow. Spare him ! — By our holy vow. By our prayers and many tears, By the mercy that endears, Sparc him !— he our love hath shared ! Spare him !— as thou wouldst be spared ! "Take thy banner !— and if e'er Thou shouldst press the soldiers bier, And the muffled drums should beat To the tread of mournful feet Then this crimson flag shall be Martial cloak and "shroud for thee." The warrior took that banner proud, .And It was his martial cloak and shroud ! THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. There is a quiet spirit in these woods, That dwells where'er the gentle south wind blows ; Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade. The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air. The leaves a1 ove their sunny palms outspread. With what a tender and impassioned voice It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought, When the fast-ushering star of Morn- ing comes O'cr-riding the gray hills with golden scarf ; Or when the cowled and dusky- sandaled Eve, In mourning weeds, from out the western gate. Departs with silent pace ! That spirit moves In the green valley, where the silver brook, From its full lavcr, pours the white cascade ; .And, babbling low amid the tangled woods, T?ooaeecffoeei»oeeooee>seaewoeeoa8Q8eeoooeo(^g>eoi9eooe»6ai,^aag>09C 2 ^^®®®®®®'^^^®®e^®@®&®®&&®@@@@@@&@&@&@@@@@@@e@@@@ &@iSi@@@QiS9@e^ LONGFELLOW'S POETLCAL WORLDS. Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter. And frequent, on the everlasting hills, Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself In all the dark embroidery of the storm, And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid The silent majesty of these deep woods. Its presence shall uiilift thy thoughts from earth, As to the sunshine and the pure bright air Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle wings, — The swelling upland, where the side- long sun [goes, — Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in, Mountain, and shattered cliff, and and sunny vale. The distant lake, fountains,— and mighty trees, 111 many a lazy syllable, repeating Their old poetic legends to the wind. And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill The world ; and, in these wayward davs of vouth, 13 0@®e)e®i8®QQ®@@e'e®Q@Q(SQ@eQ6i®e®Q@eeeeeee>eee@eeQ9eeQ@®®a@@@09®, EARLIER POEMS. My busy fancy oft embodies it, As a bright image of the hght and beauty That dwell in nature,— of the heavenly forms We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds When the sun sets. Within her eye The heaven of April, with its chang- ing light, And w hen it wears the blue of May, is liung, And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair Is like tlie summer tresses of the trees, When twilight makes them brown, and on ker cheek Blushes the richness of an autumn sky. With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath, It is so like the gentle air of spring. As, from the morning's dewy flowers, it comes Full of their fragrance, that it ts a joy To have it round us,— and her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird, Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence. SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. I STOOD upon the hills, w hen heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. The clouds were far beneath me ; — bathed in light, They gathered midway round the wooded height. And, in their fading glory, shone Like hosts in battle overthrown, As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance, And rocking on the cliff was left The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft. The veil of cloud was lifted, and below 13 Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow Was darkened by the forest's shade. Or glistened in the white cascade ; Where upward, in the mellow blush of day The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way. I heard the distant waters dash, I saw the current whirl and flash, — And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, The woods were bending with a silent reach. Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell. The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills ; And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills. Was ringing to the merry shout That faint and far the glen sent out. Where, answering to .the sudden shot, thin smoke, Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke. If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keqD Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep. Go to the woods and hills I— No tears Dim the sweet look that Natuic wears. WOODS IN WINTER. When Winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill That ovei brows the lonely vale. O'er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods. The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes. Where, tw isted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung. And summer winds the stillness broke, The crv stal icicle is hung. : ee©©o0«ee©©s9©©a9©©9e©©s99©99©©999®©®©©s®©©ess©ddc'-^'*?^.e«' I r^..^. ~ ^ LONGFELLOJV'S Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Pour out tiie river's gradual tide, bhrilly the skater's iron rings, And voices fill the woodland side. Alas ! how clianged from the fair scene. n-^y \y!)cn birds sang out their mellow And winds were soft, and woods were A ^^'u^"' [day. And the song ceased not with the But still wild music is abroad. Pale, desert woods ! within your crowd ; And gathering winds, in hoarse ac- cord. Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. Chill airs and wintry winds ! my ear Has grown familiar with your song ; I hear it in the opening year,— I listen, and it cheers nie long. H I aCCoeg>6>Qeeceg>©e®QeeQQ©@@QceQ @eoQQ®OQQOOQOQeQQ®g'QQ©6'®Q@ geQigc- » BALLADS. BURIAL OF THE MINNISIN'K. On sunny slope and beechen swell The shadowed light of evening fell ; And, where the maple's leaf was brown, With soft and silent lapse came down The glory that the wood receives, At sunset, in its brazen leaves. Far upward in the mellow light Rose the blue hills. One cloud of .■\round a far uplifted cone, [white, In the warm blush of evening shone ; An image of the silver lakes, By which the Indian's soul awakes. But soon a funeral hymn was heard Where the soft breath of evening stirred The tall, gray forest ; and a band Of stern in heart, and strong in hand. Came winding down beside the wave, To lay the red chief in his grave. They sang, that by his native bowers He stood, in the last moon of flowers. And thirty snows had not yet shed Their glory on the warrior's head ; But, as the summer fruit decays. So died he in those naked days. A d.irk cloak of the roebuck's skin Covered the warrior, and within Its heavy folds the weapons, made For the hard toils of war, were laid ; The cuirass, woven of plaited reeds. And the broad belt of shells and beads. Before, a dark-haired virgin train Chanted the death-dirge of the slain ; Behind, the long procession came Of hoary men and chiefs of fame. With heavy hearts, and eyes of grief. Leading the war-horse of their chief. Stripped of his proud and martial dress, Uncurbed, unreined, and riderless. With darting eye, and nostril spread. And heavy and impatient tread. He came ; and oft that eye so proud Asked for his rider in the crowd. They buried the dark chief— they freed Beside the grave his battle-steed : And swift an arrow cleaved its way To his stern heart ! One piercing neigh y\rose,— and on the dead man's plain, The rider grasps his steed again. 1842. THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. PREFATORY NOTE. The foUowinc'b.-illad was suggested to me while ridin? on the seashore at Newport. A year or two previous a skeleton had been dug up at Fall River, c lad in broken and cotroded armour ; and the idea ( ccurred to me of connecting it with the Round Tower ai Newport, generally kn.wii hitherto as the dd Windmill, though now claimed bv the Danes as a work of their early ancestors. Professor Rafn, in the Mimoircs dc la Sociiti Royalc dcs Antiquairesdu Nord, for 1838-g, says, — , "There is no mistaking in this instance the st le in which the more anci nt st ne edifices o'' the Ni rth were constructed, the style which belongs to the Roman or Ante-CIothic archi- tecture, and which, especially after the time of Charlemagne. diflTused itself from Italy oyer the whole of the West and Noit'h of Europe, where it continued to predominate until the close of the twelfth century ; that style which some authors have, from one of its niost striking characteristics, cal'ed the round arch style, the same which in England is denominated Saxon, and sometimes Norman ar^-hitccture. . . . "On the ancient s rucure in Newport there are no ornaments remamin'3: which might pos- sibly have served to guide us in assigning the probabL- date of its ereci 11. That n > vesti^je whatever is found of the pointed ;.rch, nor any appro.ximation to it, is indicative of an earlier rather than of a later period. From such characteristics as remain, however, we can scarcely form any other inference than one. in which I am persuaded that all who are familiar with old Northern architecture will concur, that this building w.-^s ekected at a period decidedly NOT LATER THAN THE TWELFTH CENTURY. This remark applies, of course, to the original building only, and not to the altemtinns thnt it subsequently received ; for there are several such altera- tions in the upper p rt of the Luilding which cannot be mistaken, and which were most likely 15 3 eoeeCTeeeoeoaeeeooeeeeeoftseeooeewgieftftocoaoeeeeeeeoeoaoae'^^® 9 ® (! c c LONGFELLOW S POETICAL WORKS. occasioned by its being adapted in modern times to various uses; for examp'e, as the substruc- ture of a windmill, and 1 itterly as a hay maj^ And, with my skates fast-bound. When of old Hildebrand Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, I asked his daughter's hand. That the poor whimpering hound Mute did the minstrels stand Trembled to walk on. To hear my story. ' ' Oft to his frozen lair " Wliile the brown ale he quaffed. ® Tracked I the grisly bear, Loud then the champion laughed, C) While from my path the liare And as the wind-gusts waft ® 1 Fled like a shadow ; The sea-foam brightly. e Oft through the forest dark So the loud laugh of scorn. ® ! 1 Followed the were-wolf's bark. Out of those lips unshorn. Until the soaring lark From the deep drinking-horn Sang from the meadow. Blew the foam lightly. ® 3 "But when T older grew. " She was a Prince's child. e 3 3. Joining a corsair's crew, 1 but a Viking wild. ® e O'er the dark sea I flew And though she blushed and smiled, (2 3 With the marauders. I was discarded ! © Wild was the life we led ; Should not the dove so white ® 1 Many the souls that sped, Follow the sea-mew's flight. 1 Many the hearts that bled. Why did they leave that night 3 1 1 2! By our stern orders. Her nest unguarded ? i6 ® 1 ©«es®©a®©@a©©@ee®@©9©©oe®®«a BALLADS. g " Scarce had 1 put to sea, Bearing the maid with me, — Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen ! — When on the white-sea strand, Waving his armed hand, Saw we old Hildcbrand, With twenty horsemen. " Then launched they to the b'ast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the w ind failed us ; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail. Death 1 was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter ! Mid-ships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel ; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water ! " As with his w ings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt, With his prey laden ; So toward the open main, Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. " Three weeks we w-estward bore, And when the storm was o'er. Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward ; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Wliich, to this very hour, Stands looking seaward. " There lived we many years ; Time dried the maiden's tears ; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes, Under that tower she lies ; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another ! " Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen ! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful ! In the v;ist forest here. Clad in my warlike gear. Fell I upon my spear, O, death was grateful ! 17 " Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison-bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended I There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland ! skoal!" — Thus the tale ended. THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. [The tradition upon which this ballad is founded, and the "shards cf the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England. The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, liart.', of Eden Hall, Cumberland ; and is not so entirely shattered as the ballad leaves it.] Of Edenhall the youthful Lord Bids sound the festal tmmpet's call ; He rises at the banquet board, .\nd cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all, " Now bring me the Luck of Eden- I hall 1 " I The butler hears the words with pain, i The house's oldest seneschal. Takes slow from its silken cloth again The drinking glass of crystal tall ; They call it the Luck of Edenhall. Then said the Lord : " This glass to praise, Fill with red wine from Portugal ! " The graybeard with trembling hand obeys ; .\ purple light shines overall. It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light, " This glass of flashing crystal tall Gave to my sires the Fountain Sprite ; She wrote in it. If this glass doth fall. Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall ! •• 'Twas right a goblet the Fate should be Of the joyous race of Edenhall ! Deep draughts drink we right will- ingly ; And willingly ring, with merry call, Kling ! klang ! to the Luck of Eden- hall ! " * In Scandinavia this is the customary salu- tation when drinking a health. 1 have slightly chan.,'ed the orthography of the word, in order to preserve the correct pronunciation. G gaggggggggggggggggggggggggaaaagggatgggggggggggaagi&i ^ . — _^- LONGFELLOW'S POETICAL WORKS. First rings it deep, and full, and mild. Like to the song of a nightingale ; Then like the roar of a torrent wild ; Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall. The glorious Luck of EdenhaJI. " For its keeper takes a race of might, The fragile goblet of crystal tall ; It has lasted longer than is right ; Kling ! klang !— with a harder blow than all Will I try the Luck of Edenhall ! " As the goblet ringing flies apart, Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall ; And through the rift the wild flames Stan ; The guests in dust are scattered all, With the breaking Luck of Edenhall. In storms the foe, with fire and sword ; He in the night had scaled the wall. Slain by the sword lies the youthful Lord, But holds in his hand the crystal tall The shattered Luck of Edenhall. On the morrow the butler alone, The graybeard in the desert hall, He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton, He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall The shards of the Luck of Edenhall " The stone wall, " saith he, aside, Down must the stately columns fall Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride In atoms shall fall this earthly ball, One day like the Luck of Edenhall ! THE WRECK 'OF THE HESPERUS. It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter. To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax. Her cheeks like the dawn of day. And her bosom white as the hawtho'rn buds That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, j His pips was in his mouth, gropes ' doth fall And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old Sailor, Had sailed the Spanish Main, " I pray tliee put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. " Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see ! " The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe. And a scornful laugh laughed he. Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the North-east ; The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and sniote amain The vessel in its strength ; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed. Then leaped her cable's length. "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so ; For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow." He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast ; He cut a rope from a broken spar. And bound her to the mast. "O father I I hear the church-bclla ring, O say what may it be ? " " 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! " And he steered for the open sea. " O father ! I hear the sound of guns, O say what may it be ? " "Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea ! " " O father ! I see a gleaming light, O say what may it be ? " But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he. Lashed to the helm, all stiff and s'ark, With his face turned to the skies. The lantern gleamed through tlie gleaming snow On his fi.xed and glassy eves. 8 Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be ; And she thought of Christ who stilled the wave On the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear, [snow, Through the whistling sleet and Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Towards the reef of Norman'sWoe. 19 And ever tlie fufiil gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf. On the rocks and the hard sea- sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, , Slie drifted a dreary wreck. And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. LONGFELLOW S POETICAL WORKS. She struck where the white and fleecy waves, Ixjoked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides, Like tlie horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice. With the masts went by the board ; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. Tiie salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes ; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed. On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of tlie Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this On the reef of Norman's Woe ! THE ELECTED KNIGHT. FKOM THE DANISH. [The following strange and somewhat mystical ballad is from Nyerup and Rahbek's Daiiske Viscr of the Middle Ages. It seems to refer to the first preaching of Christianity in the North, and to the institution of Knight- Errantrv. The three maidens I suppose to be Faith, Hope, and Charily. The irregularities of the original have been carefully preserved in the translation.] Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain, Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide. But never, ah never, can meet with the man A tilt with him dare ride. He saw under the hill-side A Knight full well equipped ; His steed was black, his helm was barred ; He was riding at full speed. He wore upon his spurs Twelve little golden birds ; Anon he spurred his steed with a clang, And there sat all the birds and sang. He wore upon his mail Twelve little golden wheels ; Anon in eddies the wild wind blew. And round and round the wheels they flew. He wore before his breast A lance that was poised in rest ; And it was sharper than diamond- stone. It made Sir Oluf 's heart to groan. He wore upon his hel.n A wreath of ruddy gold ; And that gave him the Maidens Three, The youngest was fair to behold. Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eft- soon If he were come from heaven down ; "Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he, "So will I yield me unto thee." ' ' I am not Christ the Great, Thou shalt not yield thee yet ; I am an Unknown Knight, Three modest maidens have me be- dight." ' ' Art thou a Knight elected, And have three Maidens thee be- dight ; So shalt thou ride a tilt this day. For all the Maidens' honour! " The first tilt they together rode They put their steeds to tlie test ; The second tilt they together rode, They proved their manhood best ; The third tilt they together rode. Neither of them would yield ; The fourth tilt they together rode. They both fell on the field. Now lie the Lords upon the plain, And their blood runs unto death : Now sit the Maidens in the high tower, The youngest sorrows till death. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1841, 1846, 1858. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands, The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. 21 ' His hair is crisp, and black, and long, I His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, ' And looks the whole world in tlie face, I f'or he owes not any man. i tagaggggjraajgaggggtfgg^jgg^g^fjggggggggaggaggj ^i\ LONGFELLOW S POETLCAL WORKS. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear Iiis bellows blow ; You can hear him swing his heavy slerlge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church. And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray" and preach. He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in tlie village choir. And makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling,— rejoicing,— sorrowing. Onward througii life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun. Each evening sees its close ! Somethingattempted, something done. Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought. When, sleeping in the grove. He dreamed not of her love. Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought. Love gives itself, but is not bought ; Nor voice, nor sound betrays Its deep, impassioned gaze.' It comes, — the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity, — In silence and alone To seek the elected one. % It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep Arc Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep. And kisses the closed e)'es Of him who slumbering lies. O weary hearts ! O slumbering eyes ! O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain. Ye shall be loved again ! No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own : Responds, — as if, with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings ; And whispers, in its iong, "Where hast thou stayed so long?" ENDYMION. The rising moon has hid the stars ; Her level rays, like golden bars. Lie on the landscape green. With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams. As if Diana, in her dreams. Had dropt her silver bow Upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this She woke Endymion with a kiss, THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. FROM THF, GERM.AN OF PFIZER. .A. YOUTH, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world ; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent, And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wife Close in my heart was locked, .\nd in the sweet repose of life A blessed child 1 rocked. I wake ! Away that dream,— away ! Too long did it remain ! So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought ; To a grave so cold and deep The mother beautiful was brought ; Then dropt the child asleep. Eut now the dream is wholly o'er, I bathe mine eyes and see ; [more, And wander thro' the world once A youth so light and free. 22 ^jj ggggagaggaag gaaagggiggggagg ggaggaag gre gag g gggagaa gJKPt^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Two locks—and they are wondrous Left me that vision mild ; [fair — The brown is from the mother's hair, The blond is from the child. And when I see that lock of gold, Pale grows the evening-red ; And when the dark lock I behold, I wish that I were dead. GOD'S-ACRE. I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase which calls The burial-groimd God's- Acre ! It is just ; [walls, It consecrates each grave within its And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. God's- Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts Comfort to tliose, who in tlic grave have sown [their hearts, The seed that they had garnered in Their bread of life —alas ! no more their own. 23 Into its furrows shall we all be cast, In the sure faith that we shall rise again Xi the great harvest, when the arch- angel's blast Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, In the fair gardens of tliat second birth ; And each bright blossom mingle its perfume With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth. ) LONGFELLOW'S POETICAL WORKS. With tliy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; This is tlie field and Acre of our God, This is the place where human har- vests grow ! IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY. The sun is bright, — the air is clear. The darting swallows soar and sing, And from the stately elms I hear The blue-bird prophesying Spring. So blue yon winding river flows. It seems an outlet from the sky. Where, waiting till the west wind blows. The freighted clouds at anchor lie. All things are new ; — tlie buds, the leaves. That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest. And even the nest beneath the eaves ; — There are no birds in last year's nest ! All things rejoice in youth and love, The fulness of their first delight ! And learn from the soft heavens above The melting tenderness of night. Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay ; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For O, it is not always May ! Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, To some good angel leave the rest ; For Time will teach thee soon the trutli. There are no birds in last year's nest ! THE RAINY DAY. The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering ! wall, j But at every gust the dead leaves fall, | And the day is dark and dreary, j TO THE RIVER CHARLES. River ! that in silence windest Through the meadows, bright and free. Till at length thy rest thou findcst In the bosom of the sea ! Four long years of mingled feeling. Half in rest, and half in strife, I have seen thy waters stealing, Onward, like the stream of life. Thou hast taught me. Silent River 1 Many a lesson, deep and long ; Thou hast been a generous giver ; I can give thee but a song. Oft in sadness and in illness I have watched thy current glide. Till the beauty of its stillness Overflowed me like a tide. And in better hours and brighter. When I saw thy waters gleam, I have felt my heart beat lighter, And leap onward w ith thy stream. Not for this alone I love thee. Nor because thy waves of blue From celestial seas above thee Take their own celestial hue. Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee. And thy waters disappear. Friends I love have dwelt beside thee, And have made thy margin dear. More than this ; — thy name reminds me Of three friends, all true and tried And that name, like magic, binds mc Closer, closer to thy side. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; My thoughts still cling to the moulder- ing Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, la And the days are dark and dreary. I \ Be still, sad heart! and cease repin- jj ing ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all. Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. yj&ss&a&gasssssi. ^^£4?4g^4S4g^S^^^SSS» *,^i«^^i©!^JMe^;i?^*<^j»y(^^i^«S!^iiSi?^^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Friends my soul with joy remembers ! How like quivering flames they start, When I fan the living embers On the hearthstone of my heart ! Tis for tliis, thou Silent River ! That my spirit leans to thee ; Thou hast been a generous giver, Take this idle song from me. BLIND BARTIMEUS. Blind Bartimeus at the gates Of Jericho in darkness waits ; He hears the crowd ; — he hears a breath Say, " It is Christ of Nazareth ! " And calls, in tones of agony, 'Itjctou, i\h\