WE THE DEATH-BED E watch'd her breathing thro' the night, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seem'd to speak, As we had lent her half our powers Our very hopes belied our fears, We thought her dying when she slept, For when the morn came dim and sad, Another morn than ours. Macaulay A JACOBITE'S EPITAPH To my true king I offer'd free from stain Courage and faith; vain faith, and courage vain. For him I threw lands, honors, wealth, away, Gray-hair'd with sorrow in my manhood's prime; O thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, * La Vernia. Vasari speaks of the "Sasso della Vernia," a rocky hill near Arezzo, where, among forests of beech and pine trees, is a convent containing some of the best work of Andrea della Robbia. Symonds ON A PICTURE BY POUSSIN * REPRESENTING SHEPHERDS IN ARCADIA AH happy youths, ah happy maid, Snatch present pleasure while ye may; ("Twill come to you, it came to me) Or listless lie by yonder stream, And muse and watch the ripples play, To make our years go smiling by. * In Poussin's picture the shepherds and a shepherdess are deciphering an almost effaced inscription on an old tomb, the words being "Et in Arcadia Ego." Sing, shepherds, sing; sweet lady, listen; With happy tears her bright eyes glisten, The voice she loved has long been still; Longfellow THE ARROW AND THE SONG I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight I breathed a song into the air, Long, long afterward in an oak |