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The Silent Land.

Into the Silent Land!

Ah, who shall lead us thither ?

Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shatter'd wrecks lie thicker on the strand.

Who leads us with a gentle hand

Thither, oh thither,

Into the Silent Land?

Into the Silent Land!

To you, ye boundless regions

Of all perfection, tender morning visions
Of beauteous souls, eternity's own band.
Who in life's battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear hope's tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land.

O Land! O Land!

For all the broken-hearted

The mildest herald by our fate allotted Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand, To lead us with a gentle hand

Into the land of all the great departed,

Into the Silent Land!

LONGFELLOW (from the German of SALIS).

The Lover's Wish.

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, Peace in thy breast! Would I were Sleep and Peace, so sweet to rest.

SHAKSPEARE.

Νήνεμος Αία.

Νήνεμον ζητοῦμεν αἶαν· τίς πρόεισιν ἡγεμών ; ἑσπέρα μελαντέροισι νέφεσι συσκιάζεται, πανταχῆ δ ̓ ἔρρωγεν ἀκτὴ ναυτικοῖς ἐρειπίοις· νήνεμον τίς ἡμῖν εἰς γῆν πρευμενῶς ἡγήσεται; νηνέμους ποθοῦμεν ἑδράς, παντελεῖς, ἀτέρμονας, ἀφθίτων καλῶν θ' ἑῶα πνευμάτων ὀνείρατα· ὃς γὰρ ἐν βίου μάχαισιν ἔμπεδον στήσῃ πόδα, νήνεμον φέρει πρὸς αἶαν ἐλπίδος φίλον γάνος χαῖρε γαῖα χαῖρ ̓· ὁ γάρ τοι πᾶσι τοῖς δυσαθλίοις ἠπιώτατος βροτοῖσιν ἐκ θεῶν πεπρωμένος προσκαλεῖ κήρυξ, σταθεὶς τε δᾷδ ̓ ἄνω κάτω τρέπων χειρὶ μαλθακῇ προφαίνει πρευμενῶς ἡγούμενος τῶν πάλαι κλεινῶν ἐς ἀκτὴν νηνέμου τ' αἴας πέδον.

Κ.

Amantis Votum.

Somnus in tua lumina,

Pax tibi fluat in sinum:

Somnus ipse forem lubens,
Ipse Pax, ita mellea

Dum qviete potirer.

Κ.

The Primrose.

Ask me why I send you here
This firstling of the infant year;
Ask me why I send to you

This primrose all bepearl'd with dew;
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are wash'd with tears.

Ask me why this flower doth show

So yellow, green, and sickly too;
Ask me why the stalk is weak,

And bending, yet it doth not break;

I must tell you, these discover

What doubts and fears are in a lover.

CAREW.

Serenade.

Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies:

And winking marybuds begin
To ope their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty bin;
My lady sweet, arise.

SHAKSPEARE.

Primula Veris.

Qvaeris cur tibi muneri

Sic anni dederim primitias novi,

Cur hic flos tibi venerit,

Primi veris honos, roribus emicans?—

Qvas dat delicias Amor,

Illas, crede mihi, fletubus inrigat.

Qvaeris cur ita pallidus

Aegrescat viridi lumine flosculus;

Culmo cur tenero nimis

Flectatur, neqve adhuc fractus humi cadat?Haec te, crede mihi, docent

Ut

spes inter Amor pendeat et metus.

Surgere iam Tempus.

Audisne? caeli iam canit ad fores
Alauda: iam sol deseruit torum,
Et flore sub clauso latentes

Suadet eqvos reserare fontes.

Iam semiapertos pandere calthulae
Gaudent ocellos: qvidqvid amat Venus
Iam surgit: O tandem morantes

Discutias, mea vita, somnos.

K.

R. S.

To the Redbreast.

Unheard in summer's flaring ray,

Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer,
Wooing the stillness of the autumn day;
Bid it a moment linger,

Nor fly

Too soon from winter's scowling eye.

The blackbird's song at eventide,
And her's who gay ascends,
Filling the heavens far and wide,
Are sweet; but none so blends
As thine

With calm decay and peace divine.

KEBLE.

Shylock.

B. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

S. I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
B. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
S. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
B. Every offence is not a hate at first.

S. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee

twice?

SHAKSPEARE.

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