EVELYN HOPE.

BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead!

Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed;

I have lived, I shall say, so much since then,
Given up myself so many times,
Gained me the gains of various men,

Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;
Yet one thing-one-in my soul's full scope,
Either I missed or itself missed me-

She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!

Beginning to die, too, in the glass.

Little has yet been changed, I think;
The shutters are shut-no light may pass,
Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink.

Sixteen years old when she died!

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my nameIt was not her time to love; beside,

Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares;

And now was quiet, now astir— Till God's hand beckoned unawares,

And the sweet white brow is all of her.

Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope?

What! your soul was pure and true; The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire and dew; And just because I was thrice as old,

And our paths in the world diverged so
wide,

Each was naught to each, must I be told?
We were fellow-mortals-naught beside?

No, indeed! for God above

Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love;

I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet,

What is the issue? let us see!

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while;

My heart seemed full as it could holdThere was place and to spare for the frank young smile

And the red young mouth and the hair's

young gold.

So, hush! I will give you this leaf to keep;
See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand.
There, that is our secret! go to sleep;
You will wake, and remember, and under-
stand.

ROBERT BROWNING.

HIGHLAND MARY.

YE banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!

There simmer first unfald her robes
And there the langest tarry!
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk!
How rich the hawthorn's blossom!

Through worlds I shall traverse, not a As underneath their fragrant shade

few;

Much is to learn and much to forget
Ere the time be come for taking you.

But the time will come-at last it will-
When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall
say,

In the lower earth-in the years long still-
That body and soul so pure and gay;
Why your hair was amber I shall divine,
And your mouth of your own geranium's
red-

And what you would do with me, in fine,

In the new life come in the old one's stead.

I clasped her to my bosom?
The golden hours, on angel wings,

Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,

We tore ourselves asunder;
But, O! fell Death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

LAODAMIA.

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air,

And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the bright-
est day

Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earned

That privilege by virtue.-"Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discerned, Who from ignoble games and revelry

327

"And thou, though strong in love, art all
too weak

In reason, in self-government too slow;
I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
Our blest reünion in the shades below.
Th' invisible world with thee hath sympa-
thized:

Be thy affections raised and solemnized.

"Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend,— Seeking a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven,-That self might be annulled-her bondage prove

Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, While tears were thy best pastime, day and The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." night;

"And while my youthful peers before my Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears!

He through the portal takes his silent way,

"The wished-for wind was given;-I then And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she

revolved

The oracle, upon the silent sea;

lay.

Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved,

And, if no worthier led the way, resolved
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand-She perished; and, as for a wilful crime,
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan By the just gods, whom no weak pity moved,
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy ghosts, that gather flowers
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.

sand.

"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life-
The paths which we had trod-these foun-
tains, flowers-

-Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes.-Upon the side My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers. Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she

"But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
'Behold they tremble !-haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die?'
In soul I swept th' indignity away.

died;

And ever, when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,

Old frailties then recurred; but lofty The trees' tall summits withered at the sight;

thought,

In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.

A constant interchange of growth and blight!
WILLIAM WORdsworth.