"THAT COMMON, FALSE, COLD, HOLLOW TALK WHICH MAKES THE HEART DENY THE YES IT BREATHES."-SHElley.

YOUTH S SMOOTH OCEAN, SMILING TO BETRAY. -SHELLEY.

OASES IN Life's DESERT.

Other flowering isles must be
In the sea of life and agony:

Other spirits float and flee

O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps,
On some rock the wild wave wraps,

With folding wings they waiting sit
For my bark, to pilot it

To some calm and blooming cove,
Where for me, and those I love,
May a windless bower be built,
Far from passion, pain, and guilt,
In a dell 'mid lawny hills,
Which the wild sea-murmur fills,
And soft sunshine, and the sound
Of old forests echoing round,

And the light and smell divine

Of all flowers that breathe and shine.

We live so happy there,
may

That the spirits of the air,
Envying us, may even entice
To our healing paradise
The polluting multitude;
But their rage would be subdued
By that clime divine and calm,
And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical
The inspired soul supplies
With its own deep melodies;
And the love which heals all strife
Circling, like the breath of life,

All things in that sweet abode

AND MUSIC LIFTED UP THE LISTENING SPIRIT."-SHELLEY.

409

"THE PROGENY IMMORTAL OF PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND RAPT POESY, AND ARTS YET TO BE."-PERCY B.

SHELLEY.

410

"BEAUTY STILL WALKETH ON THE EARTH AND AIR;

ALEXANDER SMITH.

[From

With its own mild brotherhood.

They, not it, would change; and soon

Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain,

And the earth grow young again.

Lines written among the Euganean Hills," one of Shelley's most characteristic compositions, and one which, not less than his other poems, is interpenetrated (to use his own words) by the glory of the sky, be it love, light, harmony, odour, or the soul of all, which from heaven like dew doth fall."]

'MONG BRANCHES GREEN STILL RING-DOVES COO AND PAIR, AND THE DEEP SEA STILL FOAMS ITS MUSIC OLD;

THE IMMORTALS.

HE splendours of the firmament of time

May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;
Like stars to their appointed height they climb,*
And death is a low mist which cannot blot
The brightness it may veil.

[From "The Adonais," stanza xliv.]

SO, IF WE ARE AT ALL DIVINELY SOULED, THIS BEAUTY WILL UNLOOSE OUR BONDS OF CARE."-A. SMITH.

Alexander Smith.

[ALEXANDER SMITH was born at Kilmarnock in 1830. His |arentage was humble. In his novel of " Alfred Hagart's Household" he has sketched much of his early life, and painted with much graphic fidelity the scenes in which his childhood was passed-scenes of cloud, and smoke, and shadow, utterly discouraging, as one would have thought, even the strongest poetical impulses. For some years he was employed as a designer of patterns in one of the Glasgow factories; but, assiduously cultivating his mind, and losing no opportunity of acquiring knowledge, he gained courage to appear before the world as a poet, and, in 1853, published "A Life Drama, and

* "The one or two immortal lights

Rise slowly up into the sky,

To shine there everlastingly."

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

THE ROSES OF THE SPR NG ARE EVER FAIR;—(SMITH)

"THE WORLD IS NOTHING BUT A MASS OF MEANS.' SMITH.

Other Poems." His book immediately attracted notice; and though some
harsh criticism was expended in pointing out the young songster's indebted-
ness to other poets, the frequent exaggeration of his language, and bom-
bast of his sentiment, the verdict of the public was decidedly favourable.
There could be no doubt that Smith was a man of fervid and original genius,
who only lacked culture and experience, and the discrimination which
springs from severe study.

Mr. Smith now obtained the appointment of Secretary to the University
of Edinburgh. In 1857 he published his "City Poems," showing a marked
improvement of style and greater originality of thought. This was fol-
lowed by numerous essays and reviews, contributed to various periodicals;
by "Edwin of Deira," a tragedy; “Alfred Hagart's Household," a novel;
"Dreamthorpe," a collection of miscellaneous papers, very beautifully
written; and "A Summer in Skye." Such continuous work, added to
official and social demands on his time and energy, wore out the poet at
an early age; and he succumbed to an attack of typhoid fever, on the 5th
of January 1867.]

"TIS FORTUNE'S TRICK, TO MUFFLE UP HER GIFTS IN DUSKY HULLS,-(ALEXANDER SMITH)

THAT, WHEN THEY THROW THEIR MANTLES OFF, SURPRISE MAY-RICHNESS OVER-DOUBLE."-SMITH.

THE NOBLE LOVE THAT LIVES IN NOBLE MEN."-SMITH.

TENNYSON.

"REMEMBER, TIME WORKS OFTEN TO SOME FAIR ACCOMPLISHMENT, WHICH WE, IMPATIENT, PURBLIND,

WHEN WAR-WINDS BLOW, KINGDOMS BREAK UP LIKE CLOUDS."-SMITH.

CANNOT SEE, AND IN OUR EAGERNESS STRETCH FORTH A HAND, AND THAT ONE ACT MARS ALL."-SMITH.

When Spring came to my garden,
(The wintry world's retriever!)

The crocuses stood in their ranks, like a guard

Of honour to receive her.

And now in Spring's inconstant smile,

In Spring's inconstant light,

One lilac-bush is a rosy cloud,
Its neighbour a cloud of white.

"WHY SEARCH FOR ILLS THAT WANDER O'ER THE WILDS OF PHANTASY,-(ALEXANDER SMITH)

"

PASSION IS A SUBSTANCE VAPOROUS (ALEXANDER SMITH)

A SPRING CHANSON.

The ivies have clomb o'er the cottage rafter:

The gummy buds of the chestnut glitter:

On the southern wall I mark a titter
Of bloom-in a month, or so, hereafter

"Twill be all covered o'er with a blossoming
laughter,

And the ground beneath an exquisite litter
Of shed pink and white—and I know who

Will then sit in the noon, the patientest knitter,
(My dearest, my dearest, who is it but you!)
Sunshine-kissed, blossom-powdered; and, while
the wind blows

Warm and warmer, around her the hyacinth swells
To break into clusters of coralline bells,

Princess rose-bud, green-hooded, to open to rose.

In the Spring-time's lovely thronging
Lurk a sacred thirst and longing.
Every deep earth-hidden root
Yearns to turn to flower and fruit;
Every hen-bird east and west
Pines for eggs beneath her breast;
On all harmless creeping things
Comes desire of painted wings;
And the brightest vision hovers
In the eyes of happy lovers ;
The burst of apple-blossom brave
Hides the newly-mounded grave;
The voice of happy bird in brake
Soothes the oft-recurring ache.
Spring is breathing through my hair,
Spring is smiling in the air;

And in her deep delight I share

With far-removed things

THAT CANNOT HOLD ITS SHAPE A SINGLE HOUR."-SMITH.

413

WHICH, IF WE SEEK NOT, WE MAY NEVER SEE?

BE NOT DOWNCAST ALTHOUGH THE HEAVENS FROWN."-SMITH.