Like those antique imperial dyes

Which age nor use can e'er efface, But win from Time a nobler grace, Stamped on my soul, thy image lies.

While Faith still vivifies this frame,

Or Memory prompts one soul-felt sigh And Hope looks upward to the sky, This heart shall beat, for thee the same.

No mortal strength nor skill can sever
The link which kindred atoms binds,
Nor less, congenial kindred minds,
United once, are one for ever.

XXI. KEPLER'S APOSTROPHE.-Anon.

YES! on the annals of my race,

In characters of flame,

Which time shall dim not nor deface,
I'll stamp my deathless name.

The fire which on my vitals preys,
And inly smouldering lies,

Shall flash out to a meteor's blaze
And stream along the skies.

Chafed as the angry ocean's swell
My soul within me boils,

Like a chained monarch in his cell,
Or lion in the toils.

F

To wealth, to pride, to lofty state,
No more I'll bend the knee,
But Fortune's minions, meanly great,
Shall stoop their necks to me.

The God which formed me for command,
And gave me strength to rise,
Shall plant His sceptre in my hand,
His lightning in my eyes;

Shall with the thorny crown of fame
My aching temples bind,
And hail me by a mighty name
A monarch of the mind.

Me, heaven's bright galaxy shall greet
Theirs by primordial choice,
And earth the eternal tones repeat
Of my prophetic voice.

Stung in her turn, the heartless fair
Who proudly eyes me now,
Shall weep to see some other share
The godhead of my brow;

Shall weep to see some lovelier star
Snatched to my soul's embrace,
Ascend with me Fame's fiery car
And claim celestial place.

Tune oh! my soul thy loftiest strain,

Exult in song and glee,

For scorn has snapped each earthlier chain

And set the immortal free.

Minds destined to a glorious shape
Must first affliction feel;

Wine oozes from the trodden grape,
Iron's blistered into steel;

So gushes from affection bruised
Ambition's purple tide,

And steadfast faith unkindly used
Hardens to stubborn pridę.

XXII. FROM THE ITALIAN.

OCCHI ! stelle immortali,

Cagione de' miei mali !

Se chiusi m' ammazate,

Aperti che farete!

EYES, like stars in heaven that glow,
Eyes, creators of my woe !

If e'en closed, my soul ye slew,
What, wide open, would ye

do!

XXIII. WHAT'S IN A NAME?-Anon.

IN names a mystic virtue lies
Concealed but clear to loving eyes,
And sounds have influence to control
The inmost workings of the soul.

The voice which breathes thy name in air,
Speaks thou art gentle, good, and fair,
Mild as the fragrant breeze in May,
Or earliest blushes of the day.

The guardian angel at thy birth,
When first he welcomed thee on earth
Rapt in the wonder of thine eyes
Murmured a Ha! of pleased surprise.

But grieved that one like angels fair
The mortal soil of earth must share,
And e'en thy star of beauty set
Sighed out an ah! of fond regret.

Attendant spirits hovering nigh

Caught up the murmur and the sigh,

With two dull links the sounds brought near And stamped the name, each loves to hear.

Whichever way we turn that name
It speaks to eye and soul the same;
It tells of honesty and truth,
Unaltering innocence of youth.

XXIV. THE STORY OF EUROPA.*

HOR. OD. III. xxvii. 25.

SNOW-WHITE midst Ocean's monster-brood,

Set sidelong on the crafty steer, At mantling perils of the flood,

The hundred-citied, 'Father!' cries,

'Oh! forfeit filial tie and name,'

Whilst fury flashes from her eyes.

* I quote the subjoined argument from honest old Lemprière:- Europa, a daughter of Agenor, King of Phoenicia and Telephassa. She was so beautiful that Jupiter became enamoured of her, and the better to engage her affections, he assumed the shape of a bull, and mingled with the herds of Agenor, while Europa and her female attendants were gathering flowers in the meadows. Europa caressed the beautiful animal, and at last had the courage to mount upon his back. The god took advantage of her situation, and retiring towards the shore, crossed the sea, with Europa on his back, and arrived safe in Crete. Here he assumed his original shape, and declared his love. The nymph, a stranger on an unknown shore, consented (although she had once made vows of perpetual celibacy), and became the mother of Minos, Sarpedon, and Rhadamanthus.' Could anything be more regular and satisfactory?