ALEXANDER SMITH.

1830-1867.

Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.

A Life Drama. Sc. ii.

In winter when the dismal rain

Came down in slanting lines,

And Wind, that grand old harper, smote

His thunder-harp of pines.

A poem round and perfect as a star.

Ibid.

Ibid.

H. F. CHORLEY.

1831-1872.

A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who hath ruled in the greenwood long.

The Brave Old Oak.

Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak
Who stands in his pride alone;
And still flourish he, a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone!

Ibid.

MICHAEL J. BARRY.

But whether on the scaffold high
Or in the battle's van,

The fittest place where man can die

Is where he dies for man!

From The Dublin Nation, Sept. 28, 1844.
Vol. ii. p. 809.

Lovell.-Cook.- Tupper.- Adams. 597

MARIA LOVELL.

"Two souls with but a single thought,

Two hearts that beat as one."

1

Ingomar the Barbarian. Translated. Act ii.

I love it

ELIZA COOK.

I love it, and who shall dare

To chide me for loving that old arm-chair!

The Old Arm-Chair.

MARTIN F. TUPPER.

A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure.

Of Education. God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love.

Of Immortality.

SARAH FLOWER ADAMS.

Nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer to Thee!

E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me;

Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

1 Zwei Seelen und ein Gedanke,

Zwei Herzen und ein Schlag.

- 1848.

From Fr. Halm, nom de plume for Von Münch
Bellinghausen (1806-1871).

598

Dufferin. -Mulock. - Harte.

LADY DUFFERIN.

I am very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But O, they love the better still

The few our Father sends.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

That for ways that are dark

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar.

Plain Language from Truthful James.

Ah Sin was his name!

Ibid.

With the smile that was childlike and bland.

Ibid.

1 Two hands upon the breast, and labour is past. Russian Proverb.

Dante.-Angelo. -- Hippocrates. 599

DANTE. 1265-1321.

All hope abandon ye who enter here.

Hell.

Canto iii. 9.

No greater grief than to remember days

Of joy when misery is at hand.

Ibid. Canto v. 121.

MICHAEL ANGELO. 1474-1564.

As when, O lady mine,
With chisell'd touch

The stone unhewn and cold

Becomes a living mould,

The more the marble wastes

The more the statue grows.

Sonnet. Translated by Mrs. Henry Roscoe.

FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU.

1604-1655.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;1

Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.

Retribution. From the Sinngedichte. Translated by Longfellow.

ISAAC DE BENSERADE. 1612-1691.

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,
And born in bed in bed we die;
The near approach a bed may show
Of human bliss to human woe.

Translated by Samuel Johnson.

JOHN LOUIS UHLAND.

1787-1862.

Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;

Take, I give it willingly;

For, invisible to thee,

Spirits twain have cross'd with me.

(Translator unknown).

The Passage.

Ora

1 Οψὲ θεοῦ μύλοι ἀλέουσι τὸ λεπτὸν ἄλευρον. cula Sibyllina, Lib. viii. L. 14.

Leutsch and

Ὀψὲ θεῶν ἀλέουσι μύλοι, ἀλέουσι δὲ λεπτά. Schneidewin. Corp. Parem. Græc. Vol. i. p. 444. God's mill grinds slow but sure.

Herbert, Jacula Prudentum.