But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; All is concenter'd in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, Of that which is of all Creator and Defence.' "How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; Byron. No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine The desert-circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. Southey. "It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more."-Byron. "Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star." "Now came still evening on, and Twilight grey Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird Ibid. They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, "Let us speak low, the Infant is asleep. Monarch of the Day and Night, Whisper, yet it is not light, The Infant is asleep. Milton. Those arms shall crush great serpents ere to-morrow, His lips shall curl with mirth and writhe with sorrow, Softly, softly, let us keep Our vigils; visions cross his rest, Prophetic pulses stir his breast, Although he be asleep." THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR. - Frederick Tennyson. "'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds The bell's deep tones are swelling, 'tis the knell Of the departed year. No funeral train That floats so still and placidly through heaven, The spirits of the seasons seem to stand, Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form, In mournful cadences that come abroad Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail, A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year Gone from the Earth forever." THE DIRGE OF THE YEAR. — G. D. Prentice. The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by. "But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began; The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kissed, Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.' HYMN ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. "Hearken, hearken! God speaketh in thy soul! With feeble paces o'er this earth of mine, To break beside the fount thy golden bowl - Milton Filled with salt tears from out thy mournful eyne,- In an eternal grasping! Thou that lovest The songful birds and grasses underfoot, And eke what tombs shall hide and change pollute-. I am the end of love!-give love to me! O thou that sinnest, grace doth more abound "Hearken! hearken. Shall we hear the lapsing river And not the voice of God?" SOUNDS. Mrs. Browning. "Ascension morn! I hear the bells Ring from the village far away; Like whispers of ascending prayer! That heaven's bright door is shut for me. Which falls alike on field and fen, Comes the wide summons to the true, The false, the best and worst of men." "Hush! is he sleeping? BOTHWELL.-Aytoun. They say that men have slept upon the cross; So why not he? . . . Thanks, Lord! I hear him breathe. Souls, crowds, for Thee! And they will know his worth ST. MAURA. "Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, Clasped, like a missal, where swart Paynims pray, "She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirred That lie upon her charmed heart. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. "Eftsoons they heard a most melodious sound FORCE, Continued. VARIETIES OF STRESS. - Keats. Tennyson The different kinds or varieties of stress are the Radical, Vanishing, Median, Compound, and Thorough Stress. Radical Stress is stress placed on the radical movement, or first part of the sound. |