(Sleep, Richard of the lion heart! For Greece and fame, for faith and heaven, You'll ask if yet the Percy lives In the armed pomp of feudal state.. Of Hotspur and his "gentle Kate" A chambermaid, whose lip and eye, And cheek, and brown hair, bright and curling, And one, half groom, half seneschal, Who bowed me through court, bower, and hall, For ten-and-sixpence sterling. JOHN GARDNER CALKINS BRAINARD. [Born in 1796, died in 1828. In his brief career he was first called to the bar; then undertook the editorship of a weekly gazette; and consumption closed a somewhat desultory and melancholy life]. SONNET TO THE SEA-SERPENT. tr Hugest that swims the ocean stream." WELTER upon the waters, mighty one And stretch thee in the ocean's trough of brine; And bound upon its ridges in thy pride: Or dive down to its lowest depths, and in The krakens sheltering under Norway's lee; GEORGE P. MORRIS. [Born in 1801, died towards 1865.1 A general in the army, dramatist, and miscellaneous writer; especially popular for his songs, one of which is the universally known "Woodman, spare that tree"]. THE RETORT. OLD NICK, who taught the village school, She was playful as a rabbit. Poor Jane had scarce become a wife, The pink of country polished life, And prim and formal as a Quaker. One day the tutor went abroad, And simple Jenny sadly missed him; When he returned, behind her lord She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him. The husband's anger rose-and red And white his face alternate grew. "Less freedom, ma'am !"-Jane sighed and said, JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. [Born in 1808 at Haverhill, Massachusetts, where his ancestors, of the Quaker denomination, had long been settled. Mr. Whittier was early engaged in farming operations; and afterwards as a political, and more especially a protectionist, journalist. In 1836 he became one of the secretaries of the Anti-Slavery Society and some of his most vigorous and rousing poems are devoted to that noble cause. He has also written various prose works; one of the chief among which is Supernaturalism in New England, published in 1847. The bulk of Mr. Whittier's poetical writings is considerable. His name stands high in the United States, and ought in England to be better known than as yet it is. An upright manly energy, and the tenderness of a strong yet delicate nature, are constantly conspicuous in his writings. These fine qualities are mostly associated with a genuine poetic grace, and in many instances with art truly solid and fine]. THE DEMON OF THE STUDY. THE Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room, But he sweeps the floor and threshes the corn, 1 In this case and another (see Park Benjamin), where I say "towards 1865" as the date of death, I have reason to infer that the authors were alive in 1863, but have died since then, though the precise year of death is uncertain to me: 1865 is named as an approximation. The shade of Denmark fled from the sun, Agrippa's demon wrought in fear, And the devil of Martin Luther sat The Old Man of the Sea, on the neck of him But the demon that cometh day by day No runner of errands like Ariel, Without rap of knuckle or pull of bell; A stout old man with a greasy hat Slouched heavily down to his dark red nose, And two grey eyes enveloped in fat, Looking through glasses with iron bows. He comes with a careless "How d'ye do?" And he wipes his glasses and clears his throat, And then he reads from paper and book, The price of stocks, the auction sales, The marriage list, and the jeu d'esprit, Oh sweet as the lapse of water at noon .O'er the mossy roots of some forest tree, The sigh of the wind in the woods of June, Or sound of flutes o'er a moonlight sea, Or the low soft music, perchance, which seems To float through the slumbering singer's dreams, So sweet, so dear is the silvery tone Of her in whose features I sometimes look, As I sit at eve by her side alone, And we read by turns from the selfsame book,Some tale perhaps of the olden time, Some lover's romance or quaint old rhyme. Then when the story is one of woe, Some prisoner's plaint through his dungeon-bar, And, when she reads some merrier song, A trumpet's summons is in her words, The stout fiend darkens my parlour door; And reads me perchance the selfsame lay Which melted in music, the night before, From lips as the lips of Hylas sweet, And moved like twin roses which zephyrs meet! I cross my floor with a nervous tread, I whistle and laugh and sing and shout, I flourish my cane above his head, And stir up the fire to roast him out; I've studied Glanville and James the wise, Which a Christian man is presumed to meet, Can I find of a reading fiend like mine. I've crossed the Psalter with Brady and Tate, And hung a wig to my parlour wall, Conjuro te, sceleratissime, Abire ad tuum locum!"-Still Like a visible nightmare he sits by me,- And I hear again in my haunted room Ah !-commend me to Mary Magdalen With her sevenfold plagues,-to the wandering Jew,- OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. [Born in 1809. A Physician, and Professor of Anatomy in Harvard University. Well known as author of The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table and other prose writings, as well as poems-humorous, critical, or occasional, for the most part]. THE TREADMILL SONG. THE stars are rolling in the sky, The earth rolls on below, And we can feel the rattling wheel Then tread away, my gallant boys, Why should not wheels go round about, Like planets in the sky? Wake up, wake up, my duck-legged man, Arouse, arouse, my gawky friend, And shake your spider legs; What though you're awkward at the trade, So lean upon the rail, my lad, They've built us up a noble wall, We've nothing in the world to do |