And seat me on a bank, and draw them near,
That I may feast myself with hearing it,
Till shortly they forget their bashful fear,
Push back their flaxen curls, and round me
sit-

Tell me their names, their daily tasks, and show Where wild wood-strawberries in the copses grow.

So passed the day in this delightful land:
My heart was thankful for the English tongue,
For English sky with feathery cloudlets spanned,
For English hedge with glistening dewdrops
hung.

I journeyed, and at glowing eventide
Stopped at a rustic inn by the wayside.

That night I slumbered sweetly, being right glad
To miss the flapping of the shrouds; but lo!
A quiet dream of beings twain I had,

Behind the curtain talking soft and low: Methought I did not heed their utterance fine, Till one of them said, softly, "Eglantine."

I started up awake; 'twas silence all :

My own fond heart had shaped that utterance clear;

And "Ah!" methought, "how sweetly did it fall, Though but in dream, upon the listening ear! How sweet from other lips the name well known, That name, so many a year heard only from mine own!"

I thought awhile, then slumber came to me,
And tangled all my fancy in her maze,
And I was drifting on a raft at sea,

The near all ocean, and the far all haze; Through the white polished water sharks did glide,

And up in heaven I saw no stars to guide.

"Have mercy, God!" but lo! my raft uprose;
Drip, drip, I heard the water splash from her;
My raft had wings, and, as the petrel goes,
She skimmed the sea, then brooding seemed
to sit

The milk-white mirror, till, with sudden spring,
She flew straight upward like a living thing;
But strange!--I went not with her in her flight,
For I was entering at a cavern's mouth;
Trees grew within, and screaming birds of night
Sat on them, hiding from the torrid south.
On, on I went, while gleaming in the dark

But now, O joy! unhoped to calm my dread, Some moonlight filtered through a clift o'erhead.

I climbed the lofty trees-the blanchèd trees-
The cleft was wide enough to let me through;
I clambered out and felt the balmy breeze,
And stepped on churchyard grasses wet with
dew.

O happy chance! O fortune to admire!
I stood beside my own loved village spire.

And as I gazed upon the yew-tree's trunk,
Lo, far-off music-music in the night!
So sweet and tender as it swelled and sunk,

It charmed me till I wept with keen delight; And in my dream, methought, as it drew near, The very clouds in heaven stooped low to hear. Beat high, beat low, wild heart so deeply stirred, For high as heaven runs up the piercing strain; The restless music fluttering like a bird

Bemoaned herself, and dropped to earth again, Heaping up sweetness, till I was afraid That I should die of grief when it did fade.

And it DID fade; but while with eager ear

I drank its last long echo dying away, I was aware of footsteps that drew near,

And round the ivied chancel seemed to stray; Oh, soft above the hallowed place they trodSoft as the fall of foot that is not shod.

I turned--'t was even so-yes, Eglantine!
For at the first I had divined the same;
I saw the moon on her shut eyelids shine,
And said, "She is asleep: " still on she

came;

Then on her dimpled feet I saw it gleam,
And thought, "I know that this is but a dream."

My darling! O my darling! not the less

My dream went on because I knew it such; She came towards me in her loveliness

A thing too pure, methought, for mortal touch; The rippling gold did on her bosom meet, The long white robe descended to her feet. The fringed lids dropped low, as sleep-oppressed; Her dreamy smile was very fair to see, And her two hands were folded to her breast,

With somewhat held between them heedfully. Oh, fast asleep! and yet methought she knew And felt my nearness those shut eyelids through.

The trees had flower-buds, nourished in deep night,

And suddenly, as I went farther in, They opened, and they shot out lambent light; Then all at once arose a railing din That frighted me: "It is the ghosts," I said, "And they are railing for their darkness fled.

"I hope they will not look me in the face;

It frighteth me to hear their laughter loud;" I saw them troop before with jaunty pace, And one would shake off dust that soiled her shroud:

"And have I drawn thee to me in my sleep? Is it for me thou wanderest shelterless, Wetting thy steps in dewy grasses deep? Oh, if this be!" I said-" yet speak to me; I blame my very dream for cruelty."

Then from her stainless bosom she did take Two beauteous lily flowers that lay therein, And with slow-moving lips a gesture make,

As one that some forgotten words doth win: "They floated on the pool," methought she said, And water trickled from each lily's head

It dropped upon her feet; I saw it gleam Along the ripples of her yellow hair,

And stood apart, for only in a dream She would have come, methought, to meet me there.

She spoke again-" Ah, fair! ah, fresh they

shine!

And there are many left, but these are mine."

I answered her with flattering accents meet: "Love, they are whitest lilies e'er were blown." "And sayest thou so?" she sighed in murmurs sweet;

"I have naught else to give thee now, mine own!

For it is night. Then take them, love !" said she; "They have been costly flowers to thee-and me."

While thus she said, I took them from her hand, And, overcome with love and nearness, woke; And overcome with ruth that she should stand

Barefooted in the grass; that when she spoke, Her mystic words should take so sweet a tone, And of all names her lips should choose "my own."

I rose, I journeyed, neared my home, and soon Beheld the spire peer out above the hill.

It was a sunny harvest afternoon,

When, by the churchyard-wicket standing still, I cast my eager eyes abroad to know If change had touched the scenes of long ago.

I looked across the hollow; sunbeams shone Upon the old house with the gable-ends: "Save that the laurel-trees are taller grown, No change," methought, to its gray wall extends.

What clear bright beams on yonder lattice shine! There did I some time talk with Eglantine."

There, standing with my very goal in sight,
Over my haste did sudden quiet steal;

I thought to dally with my own delight,

Nor rush on headlong to my garnered weal, But taste the sweetness of a short delay, And for a little moment hold the bliss at bay.

The church was open; it perchance might be That there to offer thanks I might essay, Or rather, as I think, that I might see

The place where Eglantine was wont to pray. But so it was; I crossed that portal wide, And felt my riot joy to calm subside.

The low depending curtains gently swayed,
Cast over arch and roof a crimson glow;
But, ne'ertheless, all silence and all shade

It seemed, save only for the rippling flow
Of their long foldings, when the sunset air
Sighed through the casements of the house of
prayer.

I found her place, the ancient oaken stall,
Where in her childhood I had seen her sit,
Most saint-like and most tranquil there of all,
Folding her hands, as if a dreaming fit,
A heavenly vision, had before her strayed
Of the Eternal Child in lowly manger laid.

I saw her prayer-book laid upon the seat,
And took it in my hand, and felt more near

In fancy to her, finding it most sweet

637

To think how very oft, low kneeling there In her devout thoughts she had let me share, And set my graceless name in her pure prayer.

My eyes were dazzled with delightful tears-
In sooth, they were the last I ever shed,
For with them fell the cherished dreams of
years.

I looked, and on the wall above my head,
Over her seat, there was a tablet placed,
With one word only on the marble traced.

Ah, well! I would not overstate that woe,
For I have had some blessings, little care;
But since the falling of that heavy blow,
God's earth has never seemed to me so fair,
Nor any of his creatures so divine,
Nor sleep so sweet. The word was,

EGLANTINE.

A MOTHER SHOWING THE PORTRAIT OF HER CHILD.

LIVING child or pictured cherub

Ne'er o'ermatched its baby grace; And the mother, moving nearer,

Looked it calmly in the face; Then, with slight and quiet gesture, And with lips that scarcely smiled, Said, "A portrait of my daughter,

When she was a child."

Easy thought was hers to fathom,

Nothing hard her glance to read, For it seemed to say, "No praises For this little child I need: If you see, I see far better,

And I will not feign to care For a stranger's prompt assurance That the face is fair."

Softly clasped and half extended,

She her dimpled hands doth lay; So they doubtless placed them, saying, "Little one, you must not play." And while yet his work was growing, This the painter's hand hath shown, That the little heart was making Pictures of its own.

Is it warm in that green valley,

Vale of childhood, where you dwell? Is it calm in that green valley,

Round whose bournes such great hills swell? Are there giants in the valley

Giants leaving footprints yet? Are there angels in the valley? Tell me I forget.

Answer, answer, for the lilies,

Little one, o'ertop you much, And the mealy gold within them

You can scarcely reach to touch. Oh, how far their aspect differs,

Looking up and looking down! You lock up in that green valleyValley of renown!

Are there voices in the valley,

Lying near the heavenly gate? When it opens, do the harp-strings,

Touched within, reverberate ? When, like shooting-stars, the angels To your couch at nightfall go, Are their swift wings heard to rustle? Tell me, for you know.

Yes, you know-and you are silent;
Not a word shall asking win;
Little mouth more sweet than rosebud,
Fast it locks the secret in.
Not a glimpse upon your present
You unfold to glad my view;
Ah, what secrets of your future
I could tell to you!

Sunny present! thus I read it,
By remembrance of my past;
Its to-day and its to-morrow

Are as lifetimes vague and vast;
And each face in that green valley
Takes for you an aspect mild,
And each voice grows soft in saying,
"Kiss me, little child!""

As a boon the kiss is granted:

Baby mouth, your touch is sweet; Takes the love without the trouble From those lips that with it meet; Gives the love-0 pure! O tender!— Of the valley where it grows, But the baby heart receiveth

MORE THAN IT BESTOWS.

Comes the future to the present:

"Ah!" she saith, "too blithe of mood; Why that smile which seems to whisper, 'I am happy-God is good!' God is good that truth eternal, Sown for you in happier years, I must tend it in my shadow, Water it with tears.

"Ah, sweet present! I must lead thee
By a daylight more subdued;
There must teach thee low to whisper,
I am mournful, God is good!'
Peace, thou future; clouds are coming,
Stooping from the mountain's crest;
But that sunshine floods the valley:
Let her let her rest."

Comes the future to the present:

"Child," she saith, "and wilt thou rest? How long, child, before thy footsteps Fret to reach yon cloudy crest?

Ah, the valley-angels guard it,
But the heights are brave to see;
Looking down were long contentment:
Come up, child, to me."

So she speaks, but do not heed her, Little maid, with wondrous eyes, Not afraid, but clear and tender, Blue, and filled with prophecies; Thou for whom life's veil unlifted

Hangs, whom warmest valleys fold, Lift the veil, the charm dissolveth,

Climb, but heights are cold.

There are buds that fold within them, Closed and covered from our sight, Many a richly-tinted petal,

Never looked on by the light; Fain to see their shrouded faces,

Sun and dew are long at strife, Till at length the sweet buds openSuch a bud is life.

When the rose of thine own being

Shall reveal its central fold, Thou shalt look within and marvel, Fearing what thine eyes behold; What it shows and what it teaches

Are not things wherewith to part; Thorny rose that always costeth Beatings at the heart.

Look in fear, for there is dimness;
Ills unshapen float anigh;
Look in awe, for this same nature

Once the Godhead deigned to die. Look in love, for He doth love it,

And its tale is best of lore, Still humanity grows dearer,

Being learned the more.

Learn, but not the less bethink thee How that all can mingle tears; But his joy can none discover,

Save to them that are his peers.. And that they whose lips do utter Language such as bards have sung; Lo! their speech shall be to many

As an unknown tongue.

Learn, that if to thee the meaning
Of all other eyes be shown,
Fewer eyes can ever front thee,

That are skilled to read thine own;
And that if thy love's deep current
Many another's far outflows,
Then thy heart must take forever
LESS THAN IT BESTOWS.

III.

"I, even I, am He that comforteth you."-ISAIAH li. 12.

SWEET is the solace of Thy love,
My heavenly Friend, to me,
While through the hidden way of faith
I journey home with Thee,
Learning by quiet thankfulness

As a dear child to be.

Though from the shadow of Thy peace
My feet would often stray,
Thy mercy follows all my steps,
And will not turn away:
Yea, thou wilt comfort me at last,
As none beneath Thee may.

Oft, in a dark and lonely place,
I hush my hastened breath,
To hear the comfortable words
Thy loving Spirit saith;
And feel my safety in Thy hand
From every kind of death.

Oh, there is nothing in the world
To weigh against Thy will;

E'en the dark times I dread the most,
Thy covenant fulfil;

And when the pleasant morning dawns, I find Thee with me still.

Then, in the secret of my soul,

Though hosts my peace invade,

Though through a waste and weary land My lonely way be made,

Thou, even Thou, wilt comfort me :

I need not be afraid.

Still in the solitary place

I would awhile abide,

Till with the solace of Thy love
My heart is satisfied,
And all my hopes of happiness
Stay calmly at Thy side.

IV.

"The Lord blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it."-EXODUS XX. 11.

BEAM on us brightly, blessed day;

Dawn softly for our Saviour's sake, And waft thy sweetness o'er our way, To draw us heavenward when we wake.

O holy life that shall not end-
Light that will never cease to be-
May every Sabbath-day we spend,
Add to our happiness in Thee.

V.

"The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance."PSALM XVI. 5.

THOUGH Some good things of lower worth
My heart is called on to resign,

Of all the gifts in heaven and earth,
The greatest and the best is mine:

The love of God in Christ made known-
The love that is enough alone-
My Father's love, is all my own.

My soul's Restorer, let me learn
In that deep love to live and rest;
Let me the precious thing dissern,

Of which I am indeed possessed.
My treasure let me feel and see,
And let my moments, as they flee,
Unfold my endless life in Thee.

Let me not dwell so much within

My bounded heart with anxious heedWhere all my searches meet with sin,

And nothing satisfies my need:

It shuts me from the sound and sight
Of that pure world of life and light,
Which has no breadth, or length, or height.

Let me Thy power, Thy beauty see;
So shall the hopeless labor cease,
And my free heart shall follow Thee

Through paths of everlasting peace.
My strength Thy gift, my life Thy care,
I shall forget to seek elsewhere
The wealth to which my soul is heir.

I was not called to walk alone

To clothe myself with love and light; And for Thy glory, not my own,

My soul is precious in Thy sight. My evil heart can never be

A home, a heritage for me

But Thou canst make it fit for Thee.

VI.

"There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."--PROV. xviii. 24.

WOULD that I were more closely bound

To my Beloved, who ever lives!
Would that my soul were always found
Abiding in the peace He gives!
Would that I might more clearly see
His love an heritage for me-
More surely know, more meekly own,
His bounteous grace my strength alone!

And much I wish-but I will pray
For wisdom that the lowly find;
And, O my Saviour, every day,

More of Thy meek and quiet mind.
The comfort of a mind at rest
From every care Thou hast not blest;
A heart from all the world set free,
To worship and to wait on Thee.

Ah! my Beloved, who wilt not die,

Whose spirit does not change with mine,

Put doubts of my affection by,

And make me free to sing of Thine.
The more Thy goodness I confess,
I shall not surely love Thee less;
The more myself alone I see,
The farther off I feel from Thee.

Thou art my life's restoring rest; In Thee for safety let me hide;