Obrazy na stronie

Then once again, before we part,

My empty glass shall ring;
And he that has the warmest heart

Shall loudest laugh and sing.

They say we were not born to eat ;

But gray-hair'd sages think It means, - Be moderate in your meat,

And partly live to drink; For baser tribes the rivers flow

That know not wine or song ; Man wants but little drink below,

But wants that little strong.

Then once again, &c.

If one bright drop is like the gem

That decks a monarch's crown,
One goblet holds a diadem

Of rubies melted down!
A fig for Cæsar's blazing brow,

But, like the Egyptian queen,
Bid each dissolving jewel glow
My thirsty lips between.

Then once again, &c.

The Grecian's mound, the Roman's urn,

Are silent when we call,
Yet still the purple grapes return

To cluster on the wall ;
It was a bright immortal's head

They circled with the vine,
And o'er their best and bravest dead
They pour'd the dark-red wine.

Then once again, &c.

Methinks o'er every sparkling glass

Young Eros waves his wings, And echoes o'er its dimples pass

From dead Anacreon's strings;

And, tossing round its beaded brim

Their locks of floating gold,
With bacchant dance and cboral hymn
Return the nymphs of old.

Then once again, &c.

A welcome then to joy and mirth,

From hearts as fresh ours,
To scatter o'er the dust of earth

Their sweetly mingled flowers ;
'Tis Wisdom's self the cup that fills,

In spite of Folly's frown,
And Nature from her vine-clad hills,
That rains her life-blood down!

Then once again, &c.


By W. C. Bryant. This little rill, that from the springs Of yonder grove its current brings, Plays on the slope awhile, and then Goes prattling into grores again, Oft to its warbling waters drew My little feet, when life was new, When woods in early green were dress'd, And from the chambers of the west The warmer breezes, travelling out, Breathed the new scent of flowers about My truant steps from home would stray, Upon its grassy side to play, List the brown thrasher's vernal hymn, And crop the violet on its brim, With blooming cheek and open brow, As young and gay, sweet rill, as thou.

And when the days of boyhood came, And I had grown in love with fame, Duly I sought thy banks and tried My first rude numbers by thy side.

Words cannot tell how bright and gay
The scenes of life before me lay.
Then glorious hopes, that now to speak
Would bring the blood into my cheek,
Pass'd o'er me; and I wrote on high,
A name I deem'd should never die.

Years change thee not. Upon yon bill The tall old maples, verdant still, Yet tell in grandeur of decay, How swift the years have pass'd away, Since first, a child, and half afraid, I wander'd in the forest shade. Thou ever joyous rivulet, Dost dimple, leap and prattle yet; And sporting with the sands that pave The windings of thy silver wave, And dancing to thy own wild chime, Thou laughest at the lapse of time. The same sweet sounds are in my ear My early childhood loved to hear; As pure thy limpid waters run, As bright they sparkle to the sun ; As fresh and thick the bending ranks Of herbs that line thy oozy banks; The violet there, in soft May dew, Comes up as modest and as blue; As green amid thy current's stress, Floats the scarce rooted watercress; And the brown ground-bird, in thy glen, Still chirps as merrily as then.

Thou changest not—but I am changed, Since first thy pleasant banks I ranged ; And the grave stranger, come to see The play-place of his infancy, Has scarce a single trace of him Who sported once upon thy brim. The visions of my youth are pastToo bright, too beautiful to last. I've tried the world—it wears no more The colouring of romance it wore. Yet well bas Nature kept the truth She promised to my earliest youth.

The radiant beauty shed abroad
On all the glorious works of God,
Shows freshly, to my sober'd eye,
Each charm it wore in days gone by.

A few brief years shall pass away,
And I, all trembling, weak, and gray,
Bow'd to the earth, which waits to fold
My ashes in the embracing mould
(If haply the dark will of fate
Indulge my life so long a date),
May come for the last time to look
Upon my childhood's favourite brook.
Then dimly on my eye shall gleam
The sparkle of thy dancing stream;
And faintly on my ear shall fall
Thy prattling current's merry call ;
Yet shalt thou flow as glad and bright
As when thou met'st my infant sight.
And I shall sleep—and on thy side,
As ages after ages glide,
Children their early sports shall try,
And pass to hoary age and die.
But thou, unchanged from year to year,
Gaily shalt play and glitter here;
Amid young flowers and tender grass
Thy endless infancy shalt pass ;
And, singing down thy narrow glen,
Shalt mock the fading race of men.



Alone, and its quick elements—will, passion,
Reason, imagination cannot die.

What has thought
To do with time or place or circumstance ?


Lofty and passionless as date-palms wide,
High on the upmost summits of his soul —
Wrought of the elemental light of heaven,
And pure and plastic flame that soul could show,
Whose nature like the perfume of a flower
Enrich'd with aromatic sun-dust, charms
All, and with all ingratiates itself,
Sat dazzling purity; for loftiest things,
Snow-like, are purest.

How calm a silence steals upon the earth
A reverent hush of nature's sounds, as though
God, walking in vast solitudes of thought,
Went by.


When the fast ushering star of morning comes
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf;
Or when the cowl'd and dusky-sandali'd eve,
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,
Departs with silent pace !



Go, fix some weighty truth; Chain down some passion; do some generous deed ; Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile; Correct thy friend, befriend thy greatest foe; Or, with warın heart, and confidence divine, Spring up, and lay strong bold on Him who made thee.

Young, THE LAW OF THE WORLD. Those that are up themselves keep others low;

Those that are low themselves hold others hard, Ne suffer them to rise, or greater grow; And every one doth strive his fellow down to throw.


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