REGINALD HEBER

REGINALD HEBER, born in England, 1783; died in India, 1826. In 1823 he was consecrated bishop of Calcutta. His hymns and poems are his title deeds to remembrance.

CHRISTMAS HYMN

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morn

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid! Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,

Make and Monarch and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom, and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ampler oblation;

Vainly with gifts would His favor secure: Richer by far is the heart's adoration;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid!

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

A

I

THE MOONLIGHT MARCH

SEE them on their winding way,

About their ranks the moonbeams play;
Their lofty deeds and daring high
Blend with the notes of victory.

And waving arms, and banners bright,
Are glancing in the mellow light:

They're lost, and gone—the moon is past,
The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast;
And fainter, fainter, fainter still
The march is rising o'er the hill.

Again, again, the pealing drum,

The clashing horn,-they come; they come!
Through rocky pass, o'er wooded steep,
In long and glittering files they sweep;
And nearer, nearer, yet more near,
Their softened chorus meets the ear;
Forth, forth, and meet them on their way;
The trampling hoofs brook no delay;
With thrilling fife and pealing drum,
And clashing horn, they come; they come!

SYMPATHY

KNIGHT and a lady once met in a grove,
While each was in quest of a fugitive love;

A river ran mournfully murmuring by,

And they wept in its waters for sympathy.

"O, never was knight such a sorrow that bore!" 66 O, never was maid so deserted before!" "From life and its woes let us instantly fly, And jump in together for company!"

They search'd for an eddy that suited the deed, But here was a bramble, and there was a weed;

"How tiresome it is!" said the fair with a sigh; So they sat down to rest them in company.

They gazed at each other, the maid and the knight; How fair was her form, and how goodly his height! "One mournful embrace," sobbed the youth,

die!"

So kissing and crying kept company.

ere we

"Oh, had I but lov'd such an angel as you !" “Oh, had but my swain been a quarter as true!" "To miss such perfection how blinded was I!" Sure now they were excellent company."

At length spoke the lass, 'twixt a smile and a tear, "The weather is cold for a watery bier;

When summer returns we may easily die,
Till then let us sorrow in company."

When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,

Nor hope lends a ray, the poor seaman to cherish,
We fly to our Maker: "Help, Lord, or we perish."

O Jesus! once tossed on the breast of the billow,
Aroused by the shriek of despair from Thy pillow,
Now seated in glory, the mariner cherish
Who cries in his danger, "Help, Lord, or

perish."

we

And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging, When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging, Arise in Thy strength, Thy redeemed to cherish; Rebuke the destroyer: Help, Lord, or we perish."

66

HEINRICH HEINE

HEINRICH HEINE, born in Dusseldorf, Germany, 1799; died in Paris, 1856. He was of Jewish parentage, and a rare genius. He was equally at home in prose and poetry. His works are of a miscellaneous character, and clothed in a style of great beauty.

AS

THE VOYAGE

S at times the moonbeam pierces
Through the thickest cloudy rack,
So to me, through days so dreary,
One bright image struggles back.

Seated all on deck, we floated

Down the Rhine's majestic stream;
On its borders, summer-laden,
Slept the peaceful evening gleam.

Brooding, at the feet I laid me
Of a fair and gentle one,
On whose placid, pallid features
Played the ruddy-golden sun.

Lutes were ringing, youths were singing,
Swelled my heart with feelings strange;
Bluer grew the heaven above us,

Wider grew the spirit's range.

Fairy-like beside us flitted

Rock and ruin, wood and plain;

And I gazed on all reflected

In my loved one's eyes again.

I

THE LORELEI

KNOW not whence it rises,

This thought so full of woe;
But a tale of times departed
Haunts me, and will not go.
The air is cool, and it darkens,
And calmly flows the Rhine,
The mountain-peaks are sparkling
In the sunny evening-shine.

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair;

With gold is her garment glittering,
As she combs her golden hair:

With a golden comb she combs it;
And a wild song singeth she,

That melts the heart with a wondrous
And powerful melody.

The boatman feels his bosom

With a nameless longing move: He sees not the gulfs before him, His gaze is fixed above;

Till over boat and boatman

The Rhine's deep waters run: And this, with her magic singing, Till Lorelei has done!

THE MOUNTAIN ECHO

(Translation of E. A. Bowring)

T sad slow pace across the vale

AT

There rode a horseman brave: "Ah! travel I now to my mistress's arms Or but to the darksome grave?"

The echo answer gave:
"The darksome grave!"