The prize be sometimes with the fool, The race not always to the swift: The knave be lifted over all, The kind cast pitilessly down. Who knows the inscrutable design? Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, This crowns his feast with wine and wit,— Or hunger hopeless at the gate. Who bade the mud from Dives' wheel So each shall mourn, in life's advance, Pray God the heart may kindly glow, And whitened with the winter snow. ་ Come wealth or want, come good or ill, Let young and old accept their part, And bow before the awful will, And bear it with an honest heart. Who misses, or who wins the prize, Go, lose or conquer as you can; But if you fail, or if you rise, Be each, pray God, a gentleman. A gentleman, or old or young! (Bear kindly with my humble lays;) The sacred chorus first was sung Upon the first of Christmas days; The shepherds heard it overhead,The joyful angels raised it then: Glory to Heaven on high, it said, And peace on earth to gentle men! My song, save this, is little worth; And wish you health and love and mirth, As fits the holy Christmas birth, Be this, good friends, our carol still,Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, To men of gentle will. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. THE NEW YEAR. 66 FROM IN MEMORIAM," CV. RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Ring out the old, ring in the new Ring, happy bells, across the snow: Ring out the grief that saps the mind, Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring in the valiant man and free, ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. LIFE. IT is not life upon thy gifts to live, But to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee; JONES VERY. SELECTIONS FROM PARADISE LOST. BOOK I. THE POET'S THEME. Or man's first disobedience and the fruit Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, |