In such a rest his heart to keep;

But angels say-and through the word
I ween their blessed smile is heard—
"He giveth His beloved sleep!"

For me, my heart, that erst did go,
Most like a tired child at a show,

That sees through tears the juggler's leap — Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose,

Who "giveth His beloved sleep!"

And friends!-dear friends!-when it shall be That this low breath has gone from me,

And round my bier ye come to weep —

Let one, most loving of you all,

Say, not a tear must o'er her fall

“He giveth His beloved sleep!"

COWPER'S GRAVE.

BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

T is a place where poets crown'd
May feel the heart's decaying —

It is a place where happy saints
May weep amid their praying -

Yet let the grief and humbleness,
As low as silence languish;
Earth surely now may give her calm
To whom she gave her anguish.

O poets! from a maniac's tongue
Was pour'd the deathless singing!
O Christians! at your cross of hope
A hopeless hand was clinging!
O men! this man in brotherhood,
Your weary paths beguiling,
Groan'd inly while he taught you peace,
And died while ye were smiling.

And now, what time ye all may read
Through dimming tears his story -
How discord on the music fell,

And darkness on the glory

And how, when, one by one, sweet sounds
And wandering lights departed,

He wore no less a loving face,
Because so broken-hearted.

He shall be strong to sanctify
The poet's high vocation,

And bow the meekest Christian down

In meeker adoration ;

Nor ever shall he be in praise

By wise or good forsaken;

Named softly as the household name
Of one whom God hath taken!

With sadness that is calm, not gloom,
I learn to think upon him;

With meekness that is gratefulness,

On God, whose heaven hath won him. Who suffered once the madness-cloud Towards his love to blind him;

But gently led the blind along,

Where breath and bird could find him;

And wrought within his shatter'd brain
Such quick poetic senses,

As hills have language for, and stars

Harmonious influences!

The pulse of dew upon the grass
His own did calmly number;
And silent shadow from the trees
Fell o'er him like a slumber.

The very world, by God's constraint,
From falsehood's chill removing,

Its women and its men became

Beside him true and loving!

And timid hares were drawn from woods

To share his home-caresses, Uplooking to his human eyes, With sylvan tendernesses.

But while in darkness he remain'd,
Unconscious of the guiding,
And things provided came without
The sweet sense of providing,
He testified this solemn truth,
Though frenzy desolated-
Nor man nor nature satisfy
Whom only God created.

B

BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.

BY ALFRED TENNYSON.

REAK, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

WAS in the prime of summer time,
An evening calm and cool,

And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school:

There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool.

Away they sped with gamesome minds,

And souls untouch'd by sin;

To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:

Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.