Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath

taken.

With quiet sadness and no gloom I learn to think upon him, With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose heaven hath won him

Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to blind

him,

But gently led the blind along where breath, and bird could find

him;

And wrought within his shattered brain, such quick poetic senses
As hills have language for, and star, harmonious influences!
The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number,
And silent shadow from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.

Wild timid hares were drawn from woods to share his home

caresses,

Uplooking to his human eyes with sylvan tendernesses;

The very world, by God's constraint, from falsehood's ways

removing,

Its women and its men became beside him true and loving.

But while in blindness he remained unconscious of the guiding,
And things provided came without the sweet sense of providing,
He testified this solemn truth through phrenzy desolated-
Nor man nor nature satisfy, whom only God created!

Like a sick child that knoweth not his mother whilst she blesses, And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses;

That turns his fevered eyes around-"My mother! where's my

mother?"

As if such tender words and looks could come from any other!

The fever gone, with leaps of heart he sees her bending o'er him,

Her face all pale from watchful love, the unweary love she bore

him!

Thus woke the poet from the dream his life's long fever gave

him,

Beneath those deep pathetic Eyes, which closed in death to save

him!

Thus? oh, not thus! no type of earth could image that awaking, Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of seraphs round him

breaking,

Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body parted,

But felt those eyes alone, and knew, "My Savior! not deserted!"

Deserted! who hath dreamt that when the cross in darkness rested

Upon the Victim's hidden face no love was manifested!

What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the atoning drops

averted?

What tears have washed them from the soul, that one should be deserted?

Deserted! God could separate from His own essence rather;

And Adam's sins have swept between the righteous son and

Father;

Yea, once, Immanuel's orphaned cry his universe hath shakenIt went up single, echoless, "My God, I am forsaken!"

It went up from the Holy's lips amid his lost creation,
That, of the lost, no son should use those words of desolation,
That earth's worst phrenzies, marring hone, should mar not
hope's fruition,

And I, on Cowper's grave, should see his rapture in a vision!

Victoria's Tears.

["When the Princess Victoria was first informed that she was Queen of Great Britain, she was so affected by the responsibilities of her new position, that she burst into tears." ]

“་

MAIDEN, heir of kings,

A king has left his place;

The Majesty of death has swept

All other from his face.

And thou, upon thy mother's breast
No longer lean adown-

But take the glory for the rest,

And rule the land that loves thee best."

The maiden wept;

She wept to wear a crown!

They decked her courtly halls

They reined her hundred steedsThey shouted at her palace gate,

"A noble Queen succeeds!"

Her name has stirred the mountains' sleep,
Her praise has filled the town:
And mourners God had stricken deep
Looked hearkening up, and did not weep!
Alone she wept,

Who wept to wear a crown.

She saw no purple shine,

For tears had dimmed her eyes:
She only knew her childhood's flowers
Were happier pageantries!

And while the heralds played their part
For million shouts to drown-

"God save the Queen," from hill to martShe heard, through all, her beating heart, And turned and wept!

She wept to wear a crown.

God save thee, weeping Queen!
Thou shalt be well beloved,
The tyrant's scepter cannot move

As those pure tears have moved;
The nature in thine eye we see,
Which tyrants cannot own-
The love that guardeth liberties;

Strange blessing on the nation lies
Whose sovereign wept,

Yea, wept, to wear its crown.

God bless thee, weeping Queen,

With blessing more divine;

And fill with better love than earth's
That tender heart of thine;

That when the thrones of earth shall be
As low as graves brought down,

A pierced hand may give to thee
The crown which angels wept to see.
Thou wilt not weep

To wear that heavenly crown.

When We Two Parted.

W

HEN we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.