The rites prepared, the victim bared,
The knife uprising toward the blow,
To the altar-stone she sprang alone,

66

Me, not my darling, no!"

He caught her away, with a sudden cry:
Suddenly from him brake his wife,
And shrieking, "I am his dearest, I—
I am his dearest!" rushed on the knife.
And the priest was happy:

"O Father Odin !

We give you a life.
Which was his nearest ?
Who was his dearest?
The gods have answered;
We give them the wife!"

THE GIFTS OF GOD.

GEORGE HERBERT.

WHEN God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” He said, "pour on him all we can :
Let the world's riches which dispersèd lie
Contract into a span."

So strength first made a way;

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure; When almost all was out, God made a stay,

Perceiving that alone of all His treasure

Rest in the bottom lay.

"For if I should," said He,

"Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both should losers be.

"Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be sick and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast."

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

SIR HENRY WOTTON.

How happy is he born and taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,

And simple truth his highest skill;

Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Not tied unto the world with care
Of princes' ear, or vulgar breath;

Who hath his life from rumors freed; Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who envies none whom chance doth raise,
Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given with praise,
Nor rules of state, but rules of good.

Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend,
And entertains the harmless day

With a well-chosen book or friend!

This man is freed from servile bands.
Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.

THE GENTLEMAN.

RICHARD STEELE.

It is no very uncommon thing in the world to meet with Men of Probity; there are likewise a great many Men of Honor to be found. Men of Courage, Men of Sense, and Men of Letters are frequent; but a True Gentleman is what one seldom sees. He is properly a compound of the various good qualities that embellish mankind. As the great poet animates all the different parts of learning by the force of his genius, and irradiates all the compass of his knowledge by the lustre and brightness of his imagination; so all the just and solid perfections of life appear in the finished Gentleman

with a beautiful gloss and varnish; everything he says or does is accompanied with a manner, or rather a charm, that draws the admiration and good-will of every beholder.

TRUTH.

LORD BACON.

THE first creature of God in the works of the days, was the light of the sense, the last was the light of reason; and His Sabbath work ever since is the illumination of the Spirit. First he breathed light upon the face of matter or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet that beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well, "It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore and to see ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle and the adventurers thereof below; but no pleasure is comparable to standing upon the vantage-ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded), and where the air is always clear and serene, and to see the errors and wanderings, and mists and tempests in the vale below; so always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride." Certainly it is heaven upon earth to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in Providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.

PHAON, THE FERRYMAN.

JOHN LYLY.

THOU art a ferryman, Phaon, yet a freeman; possessing for riches content, and for honors quiet. Thy thoughts are no higher than thy fortunes, nor thy desires greater than thy calling. Who climbeth, standeth on glass and falleth on thorn. Thy heart's thirst is satisfied with thy hand's thrift and thy gentle labors in the day turn to sweet slumbers in the night.

Envy never casteth her eye low, ambition pointeth always upward, and revenge barketh only at stars. Thou farest delicately if thou have a fare to buy anything. Thine angle is ready when thy oar is idle; and as sweet as the fish which thou gettest in the river is the fowl which others buy in the market.

Thou needest not fear poison in thy glass nor treason in thy guard. The wind is thy greatest enemy whose might is withstood by policy.

O sweet life! seldom found under a golden covert, often under a thatched cottage!

DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST.

JAMES SHIRLEY.

THE glories of our birth and state

Are shadows, not substantial things;

There is no armor against Fate;

Death lays his icy hand on kings!