And if, among the noiseless grasses, Death

Should come behind and take away my breath,
I should not rise as one who sorroweth;

For I should pass, but all the world would be
Full of desire and young delight and glee,
And why should men be sad through loss of me?

The light is flying; in the silver blue

The young moon shines from her bright window through: The mowers are all gone, and I go too.

THE FEAR OF DEATH.

LAST night I woke and found between us drawn —
Between us, where no mortal fear may creep —
The vision of Death dividing us in sleep:
And suddenly I thought, Ere light shall dawn
Some day, the substance, not the shadow, of Death
Shall cleave us like a sword. The vision passed,
But all its new-born horror held me fast,

And till day broke I listened for your breath.
Some day to wake, and find that colored skies,
And pipings in the woods, and petals wet,
Are things for aching memory to forget;
And that your living hands and mouth and eyes
Are part of all the world's old histories!
Dear God! a little longer, ah, not yet! —

A PLEA.

THE Preacher who hath fought a goodly fight,
And toiled for his great Master all day long,
Grows faint and harassed after even song,
And harshly chides the eager proselyte;
The sage who strode along the even height

Of narrow Justice severing wrong from wrong,
Stumbles and sinks below the common throng,
In pits of prejudice forlorn of light.

But thou, within whose veins a cooler blood
Runs reasonably quiet, brand not thou
With name of hypocrite each sunken brow;
To every son of man on earth who would

The Graces have not given it to be good,
And virtuous fruit may break the laden bough.

VOL. X. -14

JAMES GRAHAM.

JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE, was born at Edinburgh in 1612; died there on the scaffold, May 21, 1650.

He at first served with the Covenanters against Charles I., afterwards he changed to the royal side. In 1650 he headed a royalist rising and was defeated, captured, and executed.

If in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be,
Another do pretend a part,

And dares to vie with me;
Or if committees thou erect,
And go on such a score,
I'll sing and laugh at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if no faithless action stain
Thy true and constant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my sword.
I'll serve thee in such noble ways
As ne'er were known before;

I'll deck and crown thy head with bays,
And love thee more and more.