III. MYTHICAL: MYSTICAL: LEGENDARY. A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT. WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan, He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, Ere he brought it out of the river. High on the shore sat the great god Pan, And hacked and hewed as a great god can Till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed He cut it short, did the great god Pan, Then drew the pith like the heart of a man, 86 Steadily from the outside ring, Then notched the poor dry empty thing In holes, as he sate by the river. "This is the way," laughed the great god Pan, (Laughed while he sate by the river!) "The only way since gods began To make sweet music, they could succeed." Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, He blew in power by the river. Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan, Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, Making a poet out of a man. The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain,For the reed that grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds of the river. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. A TRANSFORMATION. FROM "THE METAMORPHOSES." WEARY and travel-worn,-her lips unwet forth And saw her need, and hospitable brought Her bowl of barley-broth, and bade her drink. And impudent stood by, and, ere the half Was drained, "Ha! ha! see how the glutton swills!" With insolent jeer he cried. The goddess's ire From the Latin of OVID. Translation of HENRY KING. THE COMET. OCTOBER, 1858. ERRATIC Soul of some great Purpose, doomed To track the wild illimitable space, Till sure propitiation has been made. For the divine commission unperformed! What was thy crime? Ahasuerus' curse Were not more stern on earth than thine in heaven! Art thou the Spirit of some Angel World, For grave rebellion banished from thy peers, Compelled to watch the calm, immortal stars. Circling in rapture the celestial void, Or one of Nature's wildest fantasies, From which she flies in terror so profound, And with such whirl of torment in her breast, That mighty earthquakes yawn where'er she treads; While War makes red its terrible right hand, And Famine stalks abroad all lean and wan? To us thou art as exquisitely fair As the ideal visions of the seer, Or gentlest fancy that e'er floated down. Wedding the thought that was too deep for words When the stars sang together o'er the birth Or when the crown of thorns on Calvary At the loud cry, "Lama Sabachthani!" No rest! No rest! the very damned have that In the dark councils of remotest Hell, Where the dread scheme was perfected that sealed Thy disobedience and accruing doom. No! none can tell thy fate, thou wandering Pale Science, searching by the midnight lamp As the superb enigma flashes by, A loosed Prometheus burning with disdain. CHARLES SANGSTER. THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT. "T WAS the body of Judas Iscariot Lay in the Field of Blood; Black was the earth by night, And black was the sky; Black, black were the broken clouds, 'T was the body of Judas Iscariot The breath of the World came and went Drop by drop on the World's eyes The dews fell cool and blest. |