He looks, the shepherd on Chaldea's hills
Tending his flocks,-

And wonders the rich beacon doth not blaze,
Gladdening his gaze,

And from his dreary watch along the rocks
Guiding him safely home through perilous ways.
How stands he in amaze,

Still wondering as the drowsy silence fills
The sorrowful scene and every hour distils
Its leaden dews! how chafes he at the night,
Still slow to bring the expected and sweet light
So natural to his sight!

And lone,

Where its first splendours shone,

Shall be that pleasant company of stars :

How should they know that death

Such perfect beauty mars?

And, like the earth, its common bloom and breath, Fallen from on high,

Their lights grow blasted by its touch, and die,— All their concerted springs of harmony

Snapp'd rudely, and the generous music gone.

A strain, a mellow strain

Of wailing sweetness, fill'd the earth and sky:
The stars lamenting in unborrow'd pain
That one of the Selected Ones must die,
Must vanish, when most lovely, from the rest!
Alas! 'tis evermore the destiny :

The hope heart-cherish'd is the soonest lost;
The flower first budded soonest feels the frost :
Are not the shortest-lived still loveliest?
And, like the pale star shooting down the sky,
Look they not ever brightest when they fly
The desolate home they bless'd?

NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS.

1807-1867.

TWO WOMEN.

The shadows lay along Broadway, 'Twas near the twilight-tide, And slowly there a Lady fair

Was walking in her pride:
Alone walk'd she; but viewlessly
Walk'd spirits at her side.

Peace charm'd the street beneath her feet,
And Honour charm'd the air;
And all astir look'd kind on her,

And call'd her good as fair :
For all God ever gave to her
She kept with chary care.

She kept with care her beauties rare
From lovers warm and true,

For her heart was cold to all but gold,
And the rich came not to woo :
But honour'd well are charms to sell,
If priests the selling do.

Now walking there was One more fair,

A slight Girl, lily pale;

And she had unseen company

To make the spirit quail :

'Twixt Want and Scorn she walk'd forlorn

And nothing could avail.

No mercy now can clear her brow

For this world's peace to pray:

For as love's wild prayer dissolved in air, Her woman's heart gave way:

But the sin forgiven by Christ in Heaven By man is cursed alway.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

1807-1882.

THE ARROW AND THE SONG.

I shot an arrow into the air ;

It fell to earth, I knew not where :
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air;
It fell to earth, I knew not where :
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

THE LIGHT OF STARS.

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,

All silently, the little moon

Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven
But the cold light of stars;

And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.

Is it the tender star of love,

The star of love and dreams?

O no! from that blue tent above
A hero's armour gleams.

And earnest thoughts within me rise
When I behold afar,

Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.

O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;

Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light
But the cold light of stars :
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.

The star of the unconquer'd will:
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possess'd.

And thou too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm!
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm!

O, fear not in a world like this!
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.

THE CUMBERLAND.

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
On board of the Cumberland, sloop of war;
And at times from the fortress across the bay
The alarum of drums swept past,

Or a bugle blast

From the camp on the shore.

Then far away to the South uprose
A little feather of snow-white smoke;

And we knew that the iron ship of our foes Was steadily steering its course

To try the force

Of our ribs of oak.

Down upon us heavily runs,

Silent and sullen, the floating fort;

Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,

And leaps the terrible death

With fiery breath

From each open port.

We are not idle, but send her straight
Defiance back in a full broadside :
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate,
Rebounds our heavier hail

From each iron scale

Of the monster's hide.

"Strike your flag!" the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain;
"Never!" our gallant Morris replies,—
"It is better to sink than to yield."

And the whole air peal'd

With the cheers of our men.

Then, like a kraken huge and black,
She crush'd our ribs in her iron grasp :
Down went the Cumberland, all a wrack,
With a sudden shudder of death

And the cannon's breath

For her dying gasp.

Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay, Still floated our flag at the mainmast-head. Lord! how beautiful was thy day :

Every waft of the air

Was a whisper of prayer,

Or a dirge for the Dead.