Along the street

The shadows meet

Of Destiny, whose hands conceal

The moulds of fate

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

Omartyrs, with your crowns and palms,-
Breathe through these throngs
Your battle songs,

Your scaffold prayers, and dungeon
psalms!

Around I see

The powers that be;

Look from the sky,
Like God's great eye,

I stand by Empire's primal springs;
And princes meet
In every street,

Thou solemn moon, with searching beam;
Till in the sight
Of thy pure light

And hear the tread of uncrowned kings! Our mean self-seekings meaner seem.

That shape the state,

And make or mar the common weal.

Hark! through the crowd
The laugh runs loud,

Beneath the sad, rebuking moon.

God save the land

No jest is this;
One cast amiss

A careless hand

May shake or swerve ere morrow's noon! Profanely on the sacred ark.

The shadow rend,
And o'er us bend,

The blood of Vane,
His prison pain

Who traced the path the Pilgrim trod,
And hers whose faith
Drew strength from death,

And prayed her Russell up to God!

Our hearts grow cold,
We lightly hold

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Shame from our hearts
Unworthy arts,

The fraud designed, the purpose dark;
And smite away
The hands we lay

To party claims
And private aims,
Reveal that august face of Truth,
Whereto are given
The age of heaven,
The beauty of immortal youth.

So shall our voice
Of sovereign choice

Swell the deep bass of duty done,
And strike the key
Of time to be,

When God and man shall speak as one!

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

THE TOUCHSTONE.

A MAN there came, whence none could tell,
Bearing a touchstone in his hand;
And tested all things in the land
By its unerring spell.

Quick birth of transmutation smote
The fair to foul, the foul to fair;
Purple nor ermine did he spare,
Nor scorn the dusty coat.

A right which brave men died to gain; Of heirloom jewels, prized so much,

The stake, the cord,

Were many changed to chips and clods,

The axe, the sword,

And even statues of the gods

Grim nurses at its birth of pain.

Crumbled beneath its touch.

Then angrily the people cried,
"The loss outweighs the profit far;
Our goods suffice us as they are;
We will not have them tried.”

And since they could not so avail

To check this unrelenting guest,
They seized him, saying, "Let him test
How real is our jail!"

But, though they slew him with the sword,
And in a fire his touchstone burned,
Its doings could not be o'erturned,
Its undoings restored.

And when, to stop all future harm,

They strewed its ashes on the breeze; They little guessed each grain of these Conveyed the perfect charm.

CHARLES MACKAY.

strewed acorns on the lea;

And one took root and sprouted up, and grew into a tree.

Love sought its shade, at evening time, to breathe his early vows;

And age was pleased, in heats of noon,
to bask beneath its boughs;
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs,

the birds sweet music bore;

It stood a glory in its place, a blessing

evermore.

A little spring had lost its way amid the grass and fern,

A passing stranger scooped a well, where weary men might turn;

He walled it in, and hung with care a ladle at the brink;

He thought not of the deed he did, but
judged that toil might drink.
He passed again, and lo! the well, by
summers never dried,

Had cooled ten thousand parchéd tongues,
and saved a life beside.

It shone upon a genial mind, and, lo! its light became

A dreamer dropped a random thought;
't was old, and yet 't was new;
A simple fancy of the brain, but strong
in being true.

A lamp of life, a beacon ray, a monitory flame:

The thought was small; its issue great;
a watch-fire on the hill;
It sheds its radiance far adown, and
cheers the valley still.

TUBAL CAIN.

SMALL BEGINNINGS.

A TRAVELLER through a dusty road OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might

In the days when Earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright

The strokes of his hammer rung; And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,

And he sang, "Hurrah for my handi-
As he fashioned the sword and spear.

work!

Hurrah for the spear and sword! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,

For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one,

As he wrought by his roaring fire, And each one prayed for a strong steel

blade

As the crown of his desire:

And he made them weapons sharp and strong,

Till they shouted loud for glee, And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, And spoils of the forest free.

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And they sang, “Hurrah for Tubal Cain,
Who hath given us strength anew!
Hurrah for the sunith, hurrah for the fire,
And hurrah for the metal true!"