It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down, and hail the coming morn. It shouted through the belfry-tower, "Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour." It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, And said, "Not yet! in quiet lie." SANTA FILOMENA. WHENE'ER a noble deed is wrought, The tidal wave of deeper souls And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares. Honour to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Raise us from what is low! Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, Lo! in that house of misery Pass through the glimmering gloom, And slow, as in a dream of bliss, Upon the darkening walls. As if a door in heaven should be The light shone and was spent. On England's annals, through the long A Lady with a Lamp shall stand Nor even shall be wanting here The symbols that of yore Saint Filomena bore. spear, THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. MAY 28, 1857. It was fifty years ago, In the pleasant month of May, In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, And Nature, the old nurse, took "Come, wander with me," she said, And read what is still unread And whenever the way seemed long, She would sing a more wonderful song, So she keeps him still a child, And will not let him go, Though at times his heart beats wild Though at times he hears in his dreams And the rush of mountain streams And the mother at home says, "Hark! For his voice I listen and yearn; It is growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!" THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. A LEAF FROM KING ALFRED'S OROSIUS. OTHERE, the old sea-captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland, To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth, Which he held in his brown right hand. His figure was tall and stately, Hearty and hale was Othere, His cheek had the colour of oak; And Alfred, King of the Saxons, And wrote down the wondrous tale "So far I live to the northward, No man lives north of me; To the east are wild mountain-chains, And beyond them meres and plains; To the westward all is sea. "So far I live to the northward, From the harbours of Skeringes-hale, If you only sailed by day, With a fair wind all the way, More than a month would you sail. "I own six hundred reindeer, "I ploughed the land with horses, "Of Iceland and of Greenland, "To the northward stretched the desert, And three days sailed due north, "To the west of me was the ocean, To the right the desolate shore, But I did not slacken sail For the walrus or the whale, Till after three days more. "The days grew longer and longer, Of the red midnight sun. "And then uprose before me, |