Laura in Heaven Kingdom of God, The 138 Like as the Waves Make Toward the Pebbled Shore, PAGE Joseph Ernest Renan Night Adventure, A John Godfrey Saxe 215 John Godfrey Saxe 213 58 James K. Paulding 41 No Longer Mourn for Me When I Am Dead, William Shakespeare 315 John Ruskin 177 F. de la Rochefoucauld 155 William Shakespeare 297 Philosopher, The Place of Banishment Political Economy Portia's Speech Praise of Rosalind William Shakespeare 280 Edgar Allan Poe Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer Day, Charles Reade William Shakespeare 75 129 Jean P. F. Richter 144 316 William Shakespeare 276 300 Johann C. F. von Schiller 225 Southern Refrain, A Speech of Caius Marius to the Susceptibility of the Senses Toussaint L'Ouverture Toys Romans George Pope Morris 6 194 Truth War Song of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons, With Fox and Hounds Woodman, Spare that Tree. Sir Walter Scott Sir Walter Scott 268 245 5 270 GEORGE POPE MORRIS GEORGE POPE MORRIS, an American journalist and poet, was born at Philadelphia in 1802; died in New York in 1864. He was one of the founders of the New York Mirror. Although he produced two successful plays, his fame rests on his poems and songs. WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE WOODMAN, spare that tree! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown And wouldst thou hew it down? When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; Here, too, my sisters played; VOL. VII. And let that old oak stand! 5 My heart-strings round thee cling, A SOUTHERN REFRAIN NE EAR the lake where drooped the willow, Where the rock threw back the billow, Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherished But, with autumn's leaf she perished, Rock and tree and flowing water, Bee and bird and blossom taught her While to my fond words she listened, Tenderly her dove eyes glistened, Mingled were our hearts forever! Can I now forget her? Never! To her grave these tears are given, She's the star I missed from heaven, WILLIAM MORRIS WILLIAM MORRIS, poet, artist and social reformer, was born at Walthamstow, England, in 1834; died in London, in 1896. He was educated at Oxford. In 1863 he established manufactory for decorative furnishings and stained glass. The workman of the Middle Ages was his ideal. The time when one man conceived the design and carried it out to the finishing touches, a work of art, though it was but for kitchen use. This idea occurs constantly in his writings. His most notable works are "The Earthly Paradise," "The Tale of the House of Wolfings and "The Water of the Wonderous Isles." He also wrote a number of lectures, books and articles on socialism, and made some excellent translations. ATALANTA'S RACE (From "The Earthly Paradise") PON the shore of Argolis there stands U temple to the goddess that he sought, That, turned unto the lion-bearing lands, Fenced from the east, of cold winds hath no thought, Though to no homestead there the sheaves are brought, No groaning press torments the close-clipped murk, Lonely the fane stands, for from all men's work. Pass through a close, set thick with myrtle-trees, Through the brass doors that guard the holy place, And entering, hear the washing of the seas That twice a-day rise high above the base, And with the south-west urging them, embrace The marble feet of her that standeth there That shrink not, naked though they be and fair. Small is the fane through which the seawind sings About Queen Venus' well-wrought image white, But hung around are many precious things, The gifts of those who, longing for delight, Have hung them there within the goddess' sight, And in return have taken at her hands The living treasures of the Grecian lands. And thither now has come Milanion, And now before the Sea-born One he stands, By the sweet veiling smoke made dim and soft, And while in incense trickles from his hands, And while the odorous smoke-wreaths hang aloft, Thus doth he pray to her: “O Thou, who oft Hast holpen man and maid in their distress, Despise me not for this my wretchedness! 66 "O goddess, among us who dwell below, Kings and great men, great for a little while, Have pity on the lowly heads that bow, Nor hate the hearts that love them without guile; An empty dream of some artificer? "O, great one, some men love, and are ashamed; Some men are weary of the bonds of love; Yea, and by some men lightly art thou blamed, That from thy toils their lives they cannot move, And 'mid the ranks of men their manhood prove, Alas! O goddess, if thou slayest me What new immortal can I serve but thee? |