FATE. BRET HARTE. "THE sky is clouded, the rocks are bare; "The trail is narrow, the wood is dim, But the ship sailed safely over the sea, THE LORDS OF THULE. FROM THE GERMAN. THE Lords of Thule it did not please Wheels of chalk upon the wall; He found them in chamber, found them in hall. But the pious Willegis Could not be moved to bitterness; Seeing the wheels upon the wall, He bade his servants a painter call; And said, 66 My friend, paint now for me On every wall, that I may see, A wheel of white in a field of red; Underneath, in letters plain to be read"Willegis, bishop now by name, Forget not whence you came.' The Lords of Thule were full of shame, And all the bishops that after him came MATINS. EDNA DEAN PROCTOR. RICHARD, the lion-hearted, Knelt at our lady's shrine; And begged that the Abbot's blessing And the deserts hot and bare. "God be praised!" quoth the Abbot, "By Holy Rood I swear That at matins, and sext, and compline That the wave and the shore may be Till conqueror home comes he." The moon of another April Were the king and his Norman nobles — The blast of the dread sirocco, And away the good ship flew. Into the blinding darkness, Into the howling storm, While the salt sea wreathed before her Shrieked as the masts went down; "Bitter is death," sighed the nobles, "So near to our glory's crown!" Leaning over the bulwarks, Richard, risen from rest, With his white brow bared to the tempest, And his blue eyes turned to the west, Cried in a voice of anguish That rung o'er the foaming sea, "Would God it were time for matins, And the gray monks prayed for me!" Meanwhile in the fields of England, Slept in the midnight calm— Then through the silent cloisters And under the arches dim, Abbot and monk and friar Chanting a solemn hymn, While the flame of the stone-hewed cressets Flared with its rise and fall, And the virgin smiled serenely From her niche in the lofty wall, Entered the aisle to the altar, And knelt with the fervent prayer That still for their Sovereign Richard The winds might be soft and fair. "Bless him, O Lord," quoth the Abbot, "And bring him in peace again With the sign of our faith triumphant," And the monks said low, "Amen!" That moment over the tempest A lull stole out of the west, And the ship rocked, light as a sea-bird I know 'tis the hour for matins FRIENDSHIP. SOCRATES. GET not your friends by bare compliments, but by giving them sensible tokens of your love. It is well worth while to learn how to win the heart of a man in the right way. Force is of no use to make or preserve a friend, who is an animal, that is never caught nor tamed but by kindness and pleasure. A GREYPORT LEGEND. BRET HARTE. THEY ran through the streets of the seaport town; They peered from the decks of the ships that lay: The cold sea-fog that comes whitening down Was never as cold or white as they. 66 Ho, Starbuck, and Pinckney, and Tenterden, Run for your shallops, gather your men, Scatter your boats on the lower bay! Good cause for fear! In the thick midday |