Of what it doth relate

(Like tha blind comrade-blinded in the wars —

Who bore the one-eyed brother that was lame),

You'll remember 't is the same

That cried, "Follow me,"

Upon a summer's day;

And I shall understand with unshed tears

This great reverence that I see,

And bless the day- and Thee,

Lord God of victory!

And she,

Perhaps O even she

May look as she looked when I knew her

In those old days of childish sooth,

Ere my boyhood dared to woo her.
I will not seek to sue her,

For I'm neither fonder nor truer

Than when she slighted my lovelorn youth,
My giftless, graceless, guinealess truth,
And I only lived to rue her.
But I'll never love another,

And, in spite of her lovers and lands,
She shall love me yet, my brother!

As a child that holds by his mother,
While his mother speaks his praises,
Holds with eager hands,

And ruddy and silent stands

In the ruddy and silent daisies,
And hears her bless her boy,
And lifts a wondering joy,
So I'll not seek nor sue her,
But I'll leave my glory to woo her,
And I'll stand like a child beside,
And from behind the purple pride

I'll lift my eyes unto her,

And I shall not be denied.

And you will love her, brother dear,

And perhaps next year you 'll bring me here
All through the balmy April-tide,
And she will trip like spring by my side,

And be all the birds to my ear.

And here all three we 'll sit in the sun,
And see the Aprils one by one,
Primrosed Aprils on and on,
Till the floating prospect closes

In golden glimmers that rise and rise,
And perhaps, are gleams of Paradise,
And perhaps, too far for mortal eyes,
New springs of fresh primroses,
Springs of earth's primroses,
Springs to be and springs for me,
Of distant dim primroses.

THOUGHTS FROM THE ARCADIA.

BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

"GIVE

(IVE tribute, but not oblation, to human wisdom." "Longer I would not wish to draw breath, than I may keep myself unspotted of any heinous crime." "In the clear mind of virtue treason can find no hidingplace."

"The only disadvantage of an honest heart is credulity." "The hero's soul may be separated from his body, but never alienated from the remembrance of virtue."

"Doing good is the only certainly happy action of a man's life."

"The journey of high honor lies not in smooth ways."

"Who shoots at the midday sun, though he is sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure he is that he shall shoot higher than he who aims but at a bush."

"Remember that in all miseries, lamenting becomes fools, and action, the wise."

"The great, in affliction, bear a countenance more princely than they were wont; for it is the temper of highest hearts, like the palm-tree, to strive most upward when it is most burdened."

"The perfect hero passeth through the multitude as a man that neither disdains a people, nor yet is anything tickled with their flattery."

"In a brave bosom, honor cannot be rocked asleep by affection."

"Contention for trifles can get but a trifling victory." "Prefer truth, before the maintaining of an opinion."

"A man of true honor thinks himself greater in being subject to his word given, than in being lord of a principality."

"Joyful is woe for a noble cause, and welcome all its miseries."

"There is nothing evil but what is within us; the rest is either natural or accidental."

"While there is hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow make the strength of resolution languish."

"Who frowns at others' feasts, had better bide away." "Friendship is so rare, as it is to be doubted whether it be a thing indeed, or but a word."

"Prefer your friend's profit before your own desire." "A just man hateth the evil, but not the evil-doer." "One look (in a clear judgment) from a fair and virtuous woman is more acceptable than all the kindnesses so prodigally bestowed by a wanton beauty."

"It is folly to believe that he can faithfully love who does not love faithfulness."

"Who doth desire that his wife should be chaste, first be he true; for truth doth deserve truth."

"It is no less vain to wish death than it is cowardly to fear it."

"Everything that is mine, even to my life. is bars I love, but the secret of my friend is not mine.”

THE RHINE.

BY LORD BYRON.

HE castled crag of Drachenfels

THE

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells

Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossomed trees,

And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these,

Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strewed a scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.

And peasant girls with deep-blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise;
Above, the frequent feudal towers
Through green leaves lift their walls of gray,
And many a rock which steeply lowers,
And noble arch in proud decay,

Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers;
But one thing wants these banks of Rhine, —
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!

I send the lilies given to me:

Though long before thy hand they touch

I know that they must withered be,

But yet reject them not as such;