Lo! in the paintedoriel of the We… Whose panes the sunken sun incarna… Like a fair lady at her casement,… The evening star, the star of love… And then anon she doth herself div…

Witlaf, a king of the Saxons, Ere yet his last he breathed, To the merry monks of Croyland His drinking—horn bequeathed,— That, whenever they sat at their r…

Thus ran the Student’s pleasant r… Of Eginhard and love and youth; Some doubted its historic truth, But while they doubted, ne’erthele… Saw in it gleams of truthfulness,

Saint Augustine! well hast thou s… That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of sham… All common things, each day’s even…

“Honor be to Mudjekeewis!” Cried the warriors, cried the old… When he came in triumph homeward With the sacred Belt of Wampum, From the regions of the North-Win…

The summer sun is sinking low; Only the tree-tops redden and glow… Only the weathercock on the spire Of the neighboring church is a fla… All is in shadow below.

Thus then, much care—worn, The son of Healfden Sorrowed evermore, Nor might the prudent hero His woes avert.

I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…

A garden; morning;_ PRINCE H… book_. ELSIE, _at a distance, ga… _Prince Henry (reading)._ One mor… Out of his convent of gray stone, Into the forest older, darker, gra…

(Canto XXIII.) Even as a bird, ‘mid the beloved l… Quiet upon the nest of her sweet b… Throughout the night, that hideth… Who, that she may behold their lon…

‘I thought before your tale began,… The Student murmured, ‘we should… Some legend written by Judah Rav In his Gemara of Babylon; Or something from the Gulistan,—

When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returne… 'T is sweet to visit the still woo… The first flower of the plain. I love the season well,

The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea—birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman’s cottage

When winter winds are piercing chi… And through the hawthorn blows the… With solemn feet I tread the hill… That overbrows the lonely vale. O’er the bare upland, and away