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THE SUNSET CITY.
There's a city that lies in the Kingdom of Clouds,

In the glorious country on high,
Which an azure and silvery curtain enshrouds,

To screen it from mortal eye ;

I had grottos and fountains and orange-tree

groves ;
I had all that enchantment has told ;
I had sweet shady walks for the gods and their

loves;
I had mountains of coral and gold.

A city of temples and turrets of gold,

But a storm that I felt not had risen and rolled, That gleam by a sapphire sea,

While wrapped in a slumber I lay ; Like jewels more splendid than earth may behold, And when I awoke in the morning, behold, Or are dreamed of by you and by me.

My castle was carried away!

And about it are highlands of amber that reach , It passed over rivers and valleys and groves; Far away till they melt in the gloom ;

The world, it was all in my view ; And waters that hem an immaculate beach I thonght of my friends, of their fates, of their With fringes of luminous foam.

loves,

· And often, full often, of you. Aerial bridges of pearl there are, And belfries of marvellous shapes,

At length it came over a beautiful scene, And lighthouses lit by the evening star,

Which Nature in silence had made ; That sparkle on violet capes ;

The place was but small, but 't was sweetly serene,

And checkered with sunshine and shade. And hanging gardens that far away Enchantedly float aloof ;

I gazed and I envied, with painful good-will, Rainbow pavilions in avenues gay,

And grew tired of my seat in the air, And banners of glorious woof!

When all of a sudden my castle stood still

As if some attraction was there. When the Summer sunset's crimsoning fires

Like a lark in the sky it came fluttering down, Are aglow in the western sky,

And placed me exactly in view, The pilgrim discovers the domes and spires

When, whom should I meet in this charming Of this wonderful city on high ;

retreat,

This corner of calmness, but you ?
And gazing enrapt as the gathering skade
Creeps over the twilight lea,

Delighted to find you in honor and ease.
Sees palace and pinnacle totter and fade,

I felt no more sorrow nor pain, And sink in the sapphire sea ;

But, the wind coming fair, I ascended the breeze

And went back to my castle again.
Till the vision loses by slow degrees

The magical splendor it wore ;
The silvery curtain is drawn, and he sees
The beautiful city no more!

IN THE MIST.
HENRY SYLVESTER CORNWELL.

Sitting all day in a silver mist,

In silver silence all thc day,

Save for the low, soft kiss of spray
THE CASTLE IN THE AIR.

And the lisp of sands by waters kissed,

As the tide draws up the bay. ADDRESSED TO A LADY WHO DATED HER LETTERS FROM "THE LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD."

Little I hear and nothing I see, In the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds Wrapped in that veil by fairies spun; arise,

The solid earth is vanished for me, My castle of fancy was built.

And the shining hours speed noiselessly, The turrets reflected the blue of the skies,

A woof of shadow and sun. And the windows with sunbeams were gilt.

Suddenly out of the shifting veil The rainbow sometimes in its beautiful state

A magical bark, by the sunbeams lit, Enamelled the mansion around ;

Flits like a dream -- or seems to fit -And the figures that fancy in clouds can creates With a golden prow and a gossamer sail Supplied me with gardens and grouná.

And the waves make room for it

THOMAS PAINE.

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THE SUNKEN CITY. HARK ! the faint bells of the sunken city

Peal once more their wonted evening chime ! From the deep abysses floats a ditty,

Wild and wondrous, of the olden time.

The boatman feels his bosom

With a nameless longing move ; He sees not the gulfs before him,

His gaze is fixed above, Till over boat and boatman

The Rhine's deep waters run ; And this with her magic singing The Lore-Lei hath done!

From the German of HEINRICH HEINE.

Temples, towers, and domes of many stories

There lie buried in an ocean grave, Undescried, save when their golden glories

Gleam, at sunset, through the lighted wave.

And the mariner who had seen them glisten,

In whose ears those magic bells do sound, Night by vight bides there to watch and listen, Though death lurks behind each dark rock

round.

So the bells of memory's wonder-city

Peal for me their old melodious chime; So my heart pours forth a changeful ditty,

Sad and pleasant, from the bygone time.

THE FISHER.
The waters purled, the waters swelled, -

A fisher sat near by,
And earnestly his line beheld

With tranquil heart and eye ;
And while he sits and watches there,

He sees the waves divide,
And, lo ! a maid, with glistening hair,

Springs from the troubled tide.
She sang to him, she spake to him, —

“Why lur'st thou from below, In cruel mood, my tender brood,

To die in day's fierce glow?
Ah ! didst thou know how sweetly there

The little fishes dwell,
Thou wouldst come down their lot to share,

And be forever well.

Domes and towers and castles, fancy-builded,

There lie lost to daylight's garish beams, – There lie hidden till unveiled and gilded,

Glory-gilded, by my nightly dreams !

And then hear I music sweet upknelling

From many a well-known phantom band, And, through tears, can see my natural dwelling Far off in the spirit's luminous land !

From the German of WILHELM MUELLER. Trans

lation of JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN,

“Bathes not the smiling sun at night

The moon too — in the waves ? Comes he not forth more fresh and bright

From ocean's cooling caves ?
Canst thou unmoved that deep world see,

That heaven of tranquil blue,
Where thine own face is beckoning thee

Down to the eternal dew?”

THE LORE-LEI.

I know not whence it rises,

This thought so full of woe ;But a tale of the times departed

Haunts me -- and will not go.

The air is cool, and it darkens,

And calmly Hows the Rhine ; The mountain peaks are sparkling

In the sunny evening-shine.

The waters purled, the waters swelled,

They kissed his naked feet;
His heart a nameless transport held,

As if his love did greet.
She spake to him, she sang to him ;

Then all with him was o'er, -
Half drew she him, half sank he in, -
He sank to rise no more.

From the German of GOETHE. Trans

lation of CHARLES T. BROOKS.

And yonder sits a maiden,

The fairest of the fair ; With gold is her garment glittering,

And she combs her golden hair.

With a golden comb she combs it,

And a wild song singeth she, That melts the heart with a wondrous

And powerful melody.

THE SIRENS SONG. FROM THE "INNER TEMPLE MASQUE." Steer hither, steer your winged pines,

All beaten mariners : Here lie undiscovered mines,

A prey to passengers ;

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