And those who heard the Singers three But the great Master said, "I see I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, SUSPIRIA. TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Take them, O Grave! and let them lie Take them, O great Eternity! And trails its blossoms in the dust! HYMN FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION. The brother was the Rev. Samuel Longfellow, the poet's biographer. In his diary, February 8, 1848, Mr. Longfellow wrote: "S. returned from Portland. Read to him the chant I wrote for his ordination, — a midnight thought. He likes it, and will have it sung." CHRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing more; If thou wouldst perfect be, Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, Within this temple Christ again, unseen, And his invisible hands to-day have been And evermore beside him on his way say, Beside him at the marriage feast shall be, O holy trust! O endless sense of rest! To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, APPENDIX I. JUVENILE POEMS. WHEN Mr. Longfellow made his first collection of poems in Voices of the Night, he included a group of Earlier Poems, but printed only seven out of a number which bore his initials or are directly traceable to him. He chose these, doubtless, not as specimens of his youthful work, but because of all that he had written ten years or more before, they only appeared to him to have poetic qualities which he could regard with any complacency. It is not likely that any readers will be found to contravene his judgment in the omission of the other verses, but since this edition is intended for the student as well as for the general reader, it has been thought best to print here those poetical exercises which curious investigators have recovered from the obscurity in which Mr. Longfellow was entirely willing to leave them. They are printed in as nearly chronological order as may be. THE BATTLE OF LOVELL'S POND. Mr. Longfellow's first verses, so far as known, printed in the Portland Gazette, November 17, 1820. Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast That sweeps like a hurricane loudly and fast, As it moans through the tall waving pines lone and drear, The war-whoop is still, and the savage's yell The din of the battle, the tumult, is o'er, And the war-clarion's voice is now heard no more. The warriors that fought for their country, and bled, They died in their glory, surrounded by fame, HENRY. TO IANTHE. Written during his third year at Bowdoin College, and printed in the Portland Advertiser, August 28, 1824. When upon the western cloud Hang day's fading roses, And the twilight closes, As I mark the moss-grown spring Pensive thoughts of thee shall bring Lo, the crescent moon on high Ne'er the heart shall love again Of the slighted lover! When the russet autumn brings To the oak that 's hoarest; So the love of other days Cheers the broken-hearted; But if once our love decays When the hoar-frost nips the leaf Wasted in its beauty brief By decay's cold fingers; Shall its bloom recover; Thus the heart shall aye remain Of the slighted lover. Love is like the songs we hear O'er the moonlit ocean; Youth, the spring-time of a year Then when tranquil evening throws Think on those that love thee ! For an interval of years We ere long must sever, But the hearts that love endears THANKSGIVING. The United States Literary Gazette, November 15, 1824. When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue The Deity was there; a nameless spirit Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn, |