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READINGS IN ART,

GREEK ARCHITECTURE.

Greek architecture seems to have emerged from a state of archaic simplicity in the sixth century before the Christian era. All its finest creations were between that date and the death of Alexander the Great in 333 B. C.

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In the days of their greatest refinement the Greeks sought rather to adorn their country than their homes. If there were palatial residences, they were more perishable, and have decayed or been destroyed, leaving few remains to tell of their former grandeur. We know their architecture almost exclusively from the ruins of their public buildings, and mostly from temples and mausoleums. The Greek temple was peculiar, and made little or no provision for a congregation of worshipers. The design was largely for external effect. comparatively small room or cell received the image of the divinity, and another room behind it seems to have served as a treasury for votive offerings. But there were no surrounding chambers, halls or court yards. The temple, though within some precinct, was accessible to all, and, being open to the sun and air, invited the admiration of the passer-by. Its most telling features and best sculpture were on the exterior. The columns and the superstructure which rested on them must have played a very important part in their temple architecture. There were in Greece three distinct manners, differing mostly in the manner in which the column was treated. These are called "orders;" and are named Doric, Ionic and "Corinthian. Each of these presents a different series of proportions, mouldings and ornamentations in the column used, though the main form of the structure is the same in all. The column and its entablature being the most prominent features of the building, have come to be regarded as the index or characteristic, from an inspection of which the order can be recognized, just as a botanist recognizes plants by their flowers.

From a study of the column all the principal characteristics of the different orders are ascertained. The column belonging to any order is, of course, always accompanied by the use throughout the building of the appropriate proportions, mouldings and ornaments belonging to that order.

The Doric temple at Corinth is attributed to the seventh century B. C. This was a massive structure, with short, stumpy columns, and strong mouldings, but presenting the main features of the Doric style in its earliest, rudest form. The most complete Greek Doric temple was the Parthenon-the work of the architect Ictinus. It is selected for our purpose of illustration, because on many accounts the best, and many of our readers have seen the plate representing it. The Parthenon stood on the summit of a lofty rock, within an irregularly shaped enclosure, entered through a noble gateway. The temple itself was of perfectly regular plan, and stood quite free from all dependencies of any sort. It consisted of the cella, or sacred cell, in which stood the statue of the goddess, and behind it the treasury chamber. In both these there were symmetrical columns. A series of columns surrounded the building, and at either end was a portico eight columns wide and two deep. There were two pediments of flat pitch, one at each end. The whole rested on a basement of steps. The building, exclusive of the steps, was 228 feet long by 101 feet wide, and 64 feet high. The columns were 34 feet 3 inches high, and more than 6 feet in diameter at the base. The marble of which this temple was constructed was of the most solid and durable kind, and the workmanship in all the parts that remain shows great skill and care in the execution. The roof was probably of timbers covered with marble tiles; but all traces of the frame work have entirely disappeared, and hence the mode of construction is not known. Nor do authorities agree as to what provision was made for the admission of light. It seems probable that something like the clere-story of a Gothic church was used to light the Parthenon.

This wonderful structure was Doric, and the leading proportions were as follows: The column was 5.56 diameters high. The whole height, including the stylobate or steps, might be divided into nine parts, of which two go to the stylobate, six to the column, and one to the entablature.

The Greek Doric order is without a base; the shaft of the column springs from the top step, and is tapering, not in a straight line, but with a subtle curve, known technically as the entasis of the column. This shaft is channeled usually with twenty shallow channels, the ridges separating one from another being very fine lines.

The Parthenon, like many, if not all Greek buildings, was profusely decorated with colored ornaments, of which nearly every trace has now disappeared, but which must have contributed largely to the beauty of the building as a whole, and must have emphasized and set off its parts.

The most famous Greek building in the Ionic style was the temple of Diana, at Ephesus. This magnificent temple was almost totally destroyed, and the very site was, for centuries, unknown, till the energy and sagacity of an English architect enabled him to discover and dig out the vestiges of the building. Fortunately sufficient traces of the foundation remained to render it possible to make out the plan of the temple completely. From the fragments he was able to restore on paper the general appearance of the famous temple, which must be very nearly, if not absolutely correct. The walls of this temple were entirely surrounded by a double series of columns with a pediment at each end. The whole was of marble and based on a spacious platform of steps.

The Corinthian order, the last to make its appearance, was almost as much Roman as Greek. It resembles the Ionic, but the capitals are different, the columns more slender, and the

enrichments more florid.

The plan or floor disposition of a Greek building, always simple, was well arranged for effect, and capable of being understood at once. All confusion, uncertainty or complications were scrupulously avoided. Refined precision, order, symmetry and exactness mark the plan as well as every part of the work.

The construction of the walls of Greek temples rivaled that of the Egyptians in accuracy and beauty of workmanship; though the wall was evidently not the principal thing for effect with the Greek architect, as much of it was overshadowed by lines of columns, which form the main feature of the building.

The Corinthian order is the natural sequel to the Ionic. Had Greek architecture continued till it fell into decadence, this order would have been its badge. As it was, the decadence of Greek art was Roman art, and the Corinthian order was the favorite order of the Romans.

ETRUSCAN AND ROMAN ARCHITECTUre.

The Etruscans, at an early day, inhabited the west coast of Italy, between the rivers Arno and Tiber. At the time of the founding of Rome as a city, they were a civilized people and showed considerable architectural skill, and their arts had a very great influence on Roman art. The remains of severa Etruscan towns show that their masonry was of what has been called a Cyclopean character-that is, the stones were of an enormous size. The massive blocks being fitted together with consummate accuracy, much of the masonry endures to the present day. The temples, palaces and dwelling houses which made up the cities so fortified, have all disappeared, and the only structural remains of Etruscan art are tombs-some cut in live rock, and some detached structures. These built of heavy stones and arched securely, still exist as monuments of the science and skill of those early builders. They were acquainted with and extensively used the true radiating arch, composed of wedge-shaped stones. From them the Romans learned to construct arches, and combined the arch with the trabeated or lintel mode which they copied from the Greeks. Hence arose a style distinctively Roman.

The largest Etruscan temple of which any record remains was that of Jupiter Capitolinus, at Rome, one of the most splendid temples of antiquity.

The last of the classical styles of antiquity is the Roman. This seems rather an amalgamation of several other styles than an original, independent creation. It was formed slowly, and is harmonious, though uniting elements widely dissimilar.

The Grecian artist was imaginative and idealistic in the highest degree. He seemed to have an innate genius for art and beauty, and was eager to perpetuate in marble his brightest conceptions of excellence. The stern, practical Roman,

realistic in every pore, eager for conquest, was dominated by the idea of bringing all nations under his sway, and of making his city the capital of the world. At first he looked with disdain on the fine arts, in all their forms, and regarded a love for the beautiful, whether in literature or art, as an evidence of effeminacy.

For nearly five hundred years there was very little architectural taste displayed in the buildings at Rome. All public works, as the Appian Way, bridges and aqueducts bore the utilitarian stamp. Their best buildings were of brick or the local stone, and there is little evidence that architecture was studied as a fine art until about 150 B. C.

After the fall of Carthage, and the destruction of Corinth, when Greece became a Roman province-both which events occurred in the year 146 B. C.-Rome became desirous of emulating the older civilization which she had destroyed. She had, by her conquests, immense wealth, and expended much, both privately and publicly, in erecting monuments, many of which, more or less altered, remain to the present day.

The first marble temple in Rome was built by the consul Q. Metellus Macedonicus, who died 115 B. C. From that period Roman architecture showed a wonderful diversity in the objects to which it was applied. Not only tombs, temples, and palaces, but baths, theaters, and amphitheaters, basilicas, aqueducts and triumphal arches were planned and built as elaborately as the temples of the gods.

Under the emperors the architectural display reached its full magnificence. The boast of Augustus, that he found Rome of brick, and left her of marble, expresses in a few words the great feature of his reign, and of that of several of the succeeding emperors.

Though the most destructive of all agencies-hostile invasions, conflagrations, and long ages of neglect-have done their utmost to destroy all vestiges of Imperial Rome, there still remain relics enough to make the city of the Cæsars, after Athens, the richest store of classical architectural antiquities in the world.

BUILDINGS OF THE ROMANS.

The temples in Rome were not, as in Greece and Egypt, the structures on which the architect lavished all the resources of his art and his science. They were, in a general way, copies of Greek originals, and did not equal the models after which they were fashioned, nor greatly honor the metropolis of the world. Few remains of them exist. The Church of Santa Maria Ezizica was once a heathen temple, and after some necessary changes, used for Christian worship This was tetrastyle, with half columns around it, and of the kind called by | Vitruvius pseudo-peripteral. A few fragmentary remains of other temples are found in Rome, but there are much finer specimens in some of the provinces. The best is the Maison Carrée at Nêmes. This was probably erected during the reign of Hadrian. There is a portico in front, while the sides and rear have columns attached. The details of the capitals and entablature are almost pure Greek.

At Baalbec, the ancient Heliopolis in Syria, not far from Damascus, are the ruins of another magnificent, provincial Roman temple. It was built in the time of the Antonines, and must have been of very extensive dimensions. At the western end of an immense court, on an artificial elevation, stand the

remains of what is called the Great Temple. This was 290 feet long by 160 feet wide, and had 54 columns supporting its roof, only six of which now remain erect. Their height, including base and capital, is 75 feet, and their diameter at the base 7 feet. They are of the Corinthian order, and above them rises an elaborately moulded entablature, 14 feet in height. The most striking feature of these buildings is the colossal size of the stones used in their construction.

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Among the most remarkable public buildings, whether in the mother city, or in the provinces, were the Basilicas, or halls of justice, used also as commercial exchanges. These were generally oblong, covered halls, divided into three or five aisles by rows of columns. At one end was a semi-circular recess, floor of which was raised considerably above the level of the rest of the floor, and here the presiding magistrate had his seat. Although the Romans were not particularly interested in dramatic representations, they were passionately fond of shows and games of all kinds. Hence they built miny theatres and amphitheatres in all their cities and large towns. The most stupendous fabric of the kind that was ever erected was the Flavian amphitheater or Colosseum, whose ruins attest its pristine magnificence.

"Arches on arches, as if it were that Rome, collecting the chief trophies of her line, would build up all the triumphs in one dome." It was oblong, 620 feet in length, and 513 feet wide. It was favorably situated between the Esquiline and the Coelian hills, and admirably planned for the convenience of the vast audiences, estimated at from 50,000 to 80,000. Recent excavations have revealed the communications that existed between the arena and the dens, where the wild animals, slaves, and prisoners were confined. The external façade is composed of four stories, separated by entablatures that run completely round the building, without a break. The three lower stories consist of a series of semi-circular arched openings, eighty in number, separated by piers with attached columns in front of them, the Doric order being used in the lowest story, the Ionic in the second, and the Corinthian in the third.

From these meager facts the reader must imagine the magnificence and grandeur of the Colosseum, or seek for fuller information in works of ancient art. Nothing can give us a more impressive idea of the grandeur and lavish display of Imperial Rome, than the remains of the huge Thermæ or bathing establishments. These belong mostly to the Christian era. Agrippa built the first, A. D. 10, and thence to 324 A. D., no less than twelve of these vast establishments were erected by different emperors, including Constantine, and bequeathed to the people. The baths of Caracalla and Diocletian are the only ones that remain in any state of preservation, and were probably the finest and most extensive of them all.

There is one ancient building in Rome more impressive than any other not only because of its better state of preservation, but because of the dignity with which it was designed, the perfection of execution, and the effectiveness of the mode in which the interior is lighted-the Pantheon. It is the finest example of a domed hall that is left. It has the circular form with a diameter of 145 feet, and a height to the top of the dome of 147 feet. The magnificent dome is enriched with boldly recessed panels, and these covered with bronze ornaments.

The domestic architecture of the Romans at an early day was rich, but few traces of it remain. The buildings were of two kinds; the insula, or block of buildings, containing a number of buildings, and the domus, or detached mansion.

Their buildings, in the first centuries rude, came, in time, to have a very decided architectural character. We gather from them that daring, energy, readiness, structural skill, and a not too fastidious taste were characteristics of Roman architects and their works.

BYZANTINE ARCHITECTURE.

Constantine the Great, who had encouraged the erection of houses of Christian worship in Rome and other parts of Italy,

exerted a marked influence on architecture when he removed the seat of empire from Rome to Byzantium, and called the new capital Constantinople. He rebuilt the city that was almost in ruins, though not deserted. The people were largely of the Greek race, and had Greek ideas of architecture. Hence a new development of the church building differing somewhat from the style of the basilicas soon showed itself.

In Byzantium buildings of most original design sprang up, founded, it is true, on Roman originals, but by no means exact copies of them. The most difficult problems of construction, particularly of roofs, were successfully met and solved.

What course the art ran during the two centuries between the refounding of Byzantium and the building of Santa Sophia, we can only infer from its outcome. But it is certain that to attain the power of designing and erecting so great a work as Santa Sophia, the architects of Constantinople must have greatly modified and improved the Roman practice of building vaults and domes.

existence; and when, at length, order began to be restored from a chaos of universal ruin, and churches began to be built in Western Europe, the people looked to Rome as their ecclesiastic

center.

Where the Romish church had influence, the architecture had the Roman type; and, where the Eastern church prevailed, it adhered closely to the Byzantium models. This style, with local varieties, still obtains in most parts of Europe, and, to some extent, in American church building. An architect of genius and taste may successfully combine different orders; but most who attempt it fail. To succeed well, a good degree of originality is needed.

SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN
LITERATURE.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Who, that reads poetry at all, has not read and admired "Snow"That exquisite poem has no prototype in English literature unless Burns' Cotter's Saturday Night' be one, and it will be long, I fear, before it will have a companion piece. Out of materials of the slightest order, really common-place, Mr. Whittier had made a poem that will live, and can no more be rivaled by any winter poetry that may be written hereafter, than Thanatopsis' can be rivaled as a meditation on the universality of death. The characters of this little idyl are carefully drawn. Everything is naturally introduced, and the reflections, which are manly and pathetic, are among the finest that Mr. Whittier has ever written. 'Snow-Bound' at once authenticated itself as an idyl of New England life and manners.”—(Abridged) R. H. Stoddard.

The Vaudois Teacher.

"Oh lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare,
The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's queen
might wear;

The first church dedicated to Santa Sophia by Constantine was burnt early in the reign of Justinian; and, in rebuilding it, his architects succeeded in erecting one of the most famous buildings in the world, and one which is the typical and central embodiment of a distinct and strongly marked, well-defined style. Its distinctive feature is the adoption of the dome in preference to the vault, or timber roof, as the covering of the walls. In this grand edifice, one vast flattish dome dominates the central space. This dome is circular in form and the space over which it is placed is square, the sides of which are occupied by four massive semi-circular arches of 100 feet span each, springing from four vast piers, one at each corner. The triangular spaces in the corners of the square, so enclosed, and the circle or ring resting on it, become portions of the dome, each just sufficient to fit on one corner of the square, and the four uniting at their upper margin, to form a ring. From this ring springs the main dome that rises to a height of 46 feet, and is 107 feet | in clear diameter. Externally this church is less interesting, but its interior is of surpassing beauty, and is thus eloquently I have brought them with me a weary way,-will my gentle described by Gilbert Scott: "Simple as is the primary ideal, the actual effect is one of great intricacy, and of continuous gradation of parts from the small arcades up to the stupendous dome which hangs with little apparent support, like a vast bubble, over the centre; or, as Procopius, who witnessed its erection, said, 'as if suspended by a chain from heaven.'" The type of church of which this magnificent cathedral was the great example, has continued in eastern christendom to the present day with but little variation. Between Rome and Constantinople, well situated for receiving influences from both those cities, was Ravenna, and there a series of buildings, all more or less Byzantine, was erected. The most interesting of these is the church of San Vitale. It recalls Santa Sophia, and its structure, sculpture, carving and mosaic decorations are equally characteristic and hardly less famous.

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And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light they vie ;

lady buy?"

And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls

Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering pearls ;

And she placed their price in the old man's hand, and lightly turned away;

But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call,-" My gentle lady, stay!"

"Oh lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer luster flings, Than the diamond flash of the jeweled crown on the lofty brow of kings;

A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay,

Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy way."

The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace

was seen,

Where her eyes shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping parls between.

"Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveler gray and old,-

And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy gold."

The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a small and meager book,

Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folded robe he took.
'Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to
thee!

Nay, keep thy gold, I ask it not, for the Word of God is free."
The hoary traveler went his way, but the gift he left behind

Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden's

mind;

And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth,

And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth.

Providence.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruised reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have,
No works my faith to prove;

I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I can not drift

Beyond his love and care.

And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen Thy creatures as they be,

Forgive me if too close I lean

My human heart on Thee.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

As in the case of Hood, the fun in Holmes is always jostling the pathos. After some comic picture or grotesque phrase or quick thrust, the reader comes suddenly upon a stanza of perfect beauty of form with the gentlest touch of natural feeling. To illustrate this, it may be pardonable to quote even from so well known a poem as "The Last Leaf:" I know it is a sin

For me to sit and grin

At him here;

But the old three-cornered hat,

And the breeches and all that

Are so queer.

The mossy marbles rest

On the lips that he has prest

In their bloom;

And the names he loved to hear

Have been carved for many a year

On the tomb.

The last stanza is a pearl so perfect that one can not conceive it as having been made; it seems that it must have been created.-Francis H. Underwood.

It is difficult to imagine the time when any of the characteristic poems of Holmes will slumber on the shelves of antiquaries. They must be eternally new to the new generations, because they are founded in nature, constructed with art, animated by the noblest qualities of intellect and feeling-uniting the wit of Heine with the freshness of Beranger -and are finished as few poems have been finished since the odes of Horace. Scribner's Monthly.

The Prisoned Nautilus.

This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign,

Sails the unshadow'd main,

The venturous bark that flings

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings

In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wreck'd is the ship of pearl!

And every chamber'd cell,

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies reveal'd,-

Its iris'd ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unseal'd!

Year after year behold the silent toil

That spread his lustrous coil;

Still, as the spiral grew,

He left the past year's dwelling for the new,

Stole with soft step its shining archway through,

Built up its idle door,

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,

Child of the wandering sea,

Cast from her lap forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born

Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!

While on mine ear it rings,

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,

As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast

Till thou at length are free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea.

"The Boys."

Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?
If there has take him out, without making a noise,
Hang the Almanac's cheat, and the Catalogue's spite !
Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night!

We're twenty!
We're twenty! Who says we are more?
He's tipsy,-young jackanapes! show him the door!
"Gray temples at twenty?" Yes! white if we please;
Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze!

Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!

Look close, you will see not a sign of a flake!

We want some new garlands for those we have shed,

And these are white roses in place of the red.

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,

Of talking (in public) as if we were old :-
That boy we call "Doctor" and this we call "Judge;"
It's a neat little fiction,-of course it's all fudge.

That fellow's the "Speaker,"-the one on the right;
"Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night?
That's our "Member of Congress," we say when we chaff;
There's the "Reverend" What's-his-name?-don't make me laugh,

That boy with the grave mathematical look

Made believe he had written a wonderful book,
And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true!

So they chose him right in,—a good joke it was too!

There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain,
That could harness a team with a logical chain;
When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire,
We called him "The Justice," but now he's "The Squire."

And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith,—

Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;

But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,-
Just read on his medal, "My country," "of thee!"
You hear that boy laughing?—You think he's all fun;
But the angels laugh too, at the good he has done;
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!
Yes, we're boys, always playing with tongue or with pen ;
And I sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men?
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing and gay,
Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?
Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!

And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,
Dear Father, take care of thy children, THE Boys.
Conscience.

Nature has placed thee on a changeful tide,
To breast its waves, but not without a guide.
Yet, as the needle will forget its aim,
Jarred by the fury of the electric flame,
As the true current it will falsely feel
Warped from its axis by a freight of steel;
So will thy CONSCIENCE lose its balanced truth,
If passion's lightning fall upon its youth;
So the pure effluence quit its sacred hold,
Girt round too deeply with magnetic gold.
Go to yon town where busy science plies
Her vast antennæ, feeling through the skies,
That little vernier on whose slender lines
The midnight taper trembles as it shines,

A silent index, tracks the planets march

In all their wanderings through the ethereal arch,

Tells through the mist where dazzled Mercury burns,
And marks the spot where Uranus returns.

So, till by wrong or negligence effaced,
The living index, which thy Maker traced,
Repeats the line each starry virtue draws
Through the wide circuit of creation's laws.
Still tracks unchanged the everlasting ray
Where the dark shadows of temptation stray;
But, once defaced, forgets the orbs of light,
And leaves thee wandering o'er the expanse

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

of night.

It is not necessary to say that Lowell is the first poet of the time, or of the country, although it would be possible to maintain that proposition with strong reasons; but it will be conceded, we think, by most who have the capacity of appreciating poetic genius, that in some of his strains he reaches a note as lofty and clear and pure as any this generation has produced, and has written what will have long life in the world, and be hoarded by the wise as treasures of thought and expression.-Boston Advertiser.

The wisdom and wit and insight and imagination of the book are as delightful as they are surprising. The most cynical critic will not despair of American literature, if American authors are to write such books.-G. W. Curtis.

The moving power of Mr. Lowell's poetry, which we take to be its delicate apprehension of the spiritual essence in common things, is, in some of his poems, embodied in the fine organization of a purely poetic diction; in others, in the strong, broad language of popular feeling and humor; and we enjoy each the more for the presence of the other.The Spectator (London).

Hunting a Theme.

Now I've a notion if a poet

Beat up for themes, his verse will show it;

I wait for subjects that haunt me,
By day or night won't let me be,
And hang about me like a curse,
Till they have made me into verse.

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Make thyself rich, and then the Muse
Shall court thy precious interviews;
Shall take thy head upon her knee,
And such enchantment lilt to thee
That thou shalt hear the life-blood flow
From farthest stars to grass-blades low.
In the Twilight.

Sometimes a breath floats by me,

An odor from dreamland sent,
That makes the ghost seem nigh me
Of a splendor that came and went;
Of a life lived somewhere, I know not
In what diviner sphere,

Of memories that stay not and go not,
Like music once heard by an ear
That can not forget or reclaim it,—
A something, so shy, it would shame it
To make it a show,

A something too vague, could I name it,
For others to know,

As if I had lived it or dreamed it,
As if I had acted or schemed it,
Long ago!

And yet, could I live it over,

This life that stirs in my brain,
Could I be both maiden and lover,
Moon and tide, bee and clover,

As I seem to have been, once again,
Could I but speak and show it,

This pleasure, more sharp than pain,
That baffles and lures me so,
The world should not lack a poet,
Such as it had

In the ages glad

Long ago!

[The following exquisite lines are suggestive, and in strong contrast with the familiar rollicking stanzas in the serio-comic "Biglow Papers.' ]

Longing.

The thing we long for, that we are,

For one transcendent moment,
Before the present poor and bare
Can make its sneering comment.

Still, through our paltry stir and strife
Glows down the wished ideal,
And longing moulds in clay what life
Carves in the marble real;

To let the new life in, we know,
Desire must ope the portal;
Perhaps the longing to be so
Helps make the soul immortal.

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will
With our poor earthward striving;
We quench it that we may be still
Content with merely living;

But, would we learn that heart's full scope
Which we are hourly wronging,

Our lives must climb from hope to hope, And realize the longing.

THE world is impatient of distinction; it chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it; it ends by receiving its influence, and by undergoing its law. This quality at last inexorably corrects the world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals. It procures that the popular poet shall not finally pass for a Pindar, nor the popular historian for a Tacitus, nor the popular preacher for a Bossuet.-Matthew Arnold.

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