แ

force

Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all Who well have marked it, into honor brings.'

When she had ended, her bright-beaming

eyes

Tearful she turned aside, whereat I felt Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she willed,

Thus am I come: I saved thee from the beast

Who thy near way across the goodly mount Prevented. What is this comes o'er thee, then?

Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy breast

And thou perchance too late wilt sigh
That at the first approach of spring
Thou madst thy bud unfold its wing
And show its blush to every eye;
For March a faithless smile discloses.

If thou wouldst bloom securely here,
Let Phoebus first o'ertake the steer:
Thou'rt like the seaman who reposes
On one fair day, one favoring wind,

Weighs anchor and the future braves, But sighs when on the ocean waves For that calm port he leaves behind As with an anxious eye he sees

His shattered hull and shivered sail Borne at the mercy of the gale Wherever winds and waters please, And deems, as he is sinking fast

The sands and brine and foam beneath,
That every wave contains a death,
That every plunge will be his last.
Thou'rt like the courtier who, elate
When greeted first by favor's ray,
Begins to make a grand display;
But, ah! it is a fickle state.
A court is like a garden-shade:

The courtiers and the flowers that rise
Too suddenly 'neath changeful skies

Oft sink into the dust and fade.
In short, we all are like thy flower,
And ever, both in weal and woe,
With strange perverseness, we bestow
Our thoughts on time's swift-fleeting hour.
And 'tis the same with those who pine

And deem that grief will never flee,
And those who, bred in luxury,
Think the gay sun will always shine.
For every joy brings sorrow too,

And even grief may herald mirth, And God has mingled life on earth With bitterness and honey-dew.

Now, Baby dearie, what think you
To clothe each poor cold foot in a shoe?
You need not crow, for yours will not do,

My merry little lover;

Your one lost brother, my baby fair,
His shoes will never and never wear:
They'll be this little one's gladdening share
Till winter days are over.

For swine are housed and kine are warm,
The dog by the fireside dreads no harm;
And, ah! to see Christ's child in the storm,
A wanderer without cover!

'Tis sweet to have, but not all to keep, And 'tis good sometimes to know to weep, And I pity the heart that would slumber and sleep

Till winter days are over.

DR. GEORGE SIGERSON.

AWAY FROM HOME.

WIFTER far than swallow's flight Homeward o'er the twilight lea, Swifter than the morning light Flashing o'er the pathless sea, Dearest, in the lonely night Memory flies away to thee. Stronger far than is desire,

Firm as truth itself can be,
Deeper than earth's central fire,
Boundless as the circling sea,
Yet as mute as broken lyre,

Is
my love, dear wife, for thee.
Sweeter far than miser's gain,
Or than note of fame can be
Unto one who long in vain.

Treads the path of chivalry,
Are my dreains, in which again
My fond arms encircle thee.

JAMES ALDRICH.

SIR PHILIP SYDNEY.

IR PHILIP SYDNEY was the son of Sir Henry Sydney of Penshurst, Kent. After receiving the best education which could be given at that date, upon leaving college he travelled in France, Germany and Italy. He came to be esteemed one of the most accomplished men of his day, and, being a statesman, a writer, a poet and a soldier, was regarded as one of the chief ornaments of the court of Queen Elizabeth. Possibly his grace as a courtier and favorite of the queen made him more highly regarded in his day as a poet than a dispassionate study of his poetry would seem to justify. Horace Walpole took special pains to depreciate Sydney's muse, but probably the opinions of Lord Orford circulate at a much smaller value in the present day than when he lived and wrote and affected to build. Certainly his criticism would not be accepted either to uphold or to pull down a literary fame.

In 1576 the queen despatched Sydney on a mission to the emperor Rudolph the object of which was to establish a league among the Protestant princes. When the duke of Anjou visited England, Sydney was conspicuous in the tournaments given in his honor. He accompanied the prince as far as Antwerp on his return to the Continent. When the Garter was conferred on the prince palatine,

Sydney was selected to represent him by proxy at the installation, and was knighted by the queen on the occasion. In 1585 he and Sir Francis Drake projected an expedition against the Spaniards in South America, but Sydney was recalled from Plymouth, by the queen's special command, when upon the point of embarking. The crown of Poland was about to be offered to Sydney, when the queen again interposed, for fear (as Camden said) of losing "the jewel of her times." Sydney was made governor of Flushing and promoted to the command of the cavalry under his uncle, the earl of Leicester, general of the army sent into Holland to aid the Dutch against the Spaniards. On the 22d September, 1586, Sydney fell in with a convoy of the enemy, led by the marquis of Guisto, proceeding to the relief of Zutphen, over which his troops (though inferior in numbers) gained a signal victory, the marquis of Gonzaga being left on the field dead. The triumph, however, was dearly bought at the cost of Sydney's life. Having had one horse shot under him, he mounted another, and continued in the thick of the fight until a ball pierced his left thigh and inflicted a fatal wound. As he was being carried away from the field, exhausted with the loss of blood, he begged for a draught of water. On the water being lifted to his lips his eyes fell on a dying soldier looking eagerly at it. Sydney desired the water to be given to the soldier, saying, "This man's necessity is greater than mine." He lingered for a few

days, and died October 15. The body was brought over to England, and by the queen's command was buried with great state in St. Paul's Cathedral.

Sydney is described by writers of his time as the most accomplished man of his age. "Virtuous conduct, polite conversation, heroic valor and elegant erudition," says Hume, "all concurred to render him the ornament and delight of the English court; and, as the credit which he possessed with the queen and the earl of Leicester was wholly employed in the encouragement of genius and literature, his praises have been transmitted with advantage to posterity.' Nothing that Sydney wrote was ever published in his lifetime. His chief poem is the "Arcadia"-or, as he called it, "The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia "-and was dedicated to "Sydney's sister," the "fair, good and learned" countess whose fame was sung by Ben Jonson. The "Arcadia," published in 1590, was completed in 1593. His songs and sonnets, entitled Astrophel and Stella, appeared in 1591. In prose Sydney wrote his most celebrated work, The Defence of Poesy, published in 1595. Sydney's prose was the most flexible, harmonious and flowing that had as yet appeared in our language; and, notwithstanding the conceits into which it runs-characteristic of his age-it frequently rises into stateliness of expression and nobleness of feeling. J. C. M. BELLEW.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

BORN at Dublin in September, 1751,

Sheridan was educated there, and afterward at Harrow. In his educational career he was looked upon as an "impenetrable dunce." He eloped with Miss Linley, an

accomplished singer, and was secretly married to her in France, and again the ceremony was repeated by license on his return to England, in 1773. Between 1775 and 1779 he produced a series of sparkling comedies, of which the School for Scandal is best known, ranking as one of the finest wit-comedies in the language. His maidenspeech was delivered in the House on the 20th of November, 1780, when he was listened to with every mark of respect, but his appearance did not entirely satisfy his friends.

In February, 1783, Mr. Sheridan first came into direct contact with Mr. Pitt, who was then chancellor of the exchequer. Sheridan's Begum speech has always been famous as an extraordinary exhibition of eloquence. It was delivered in the House of Commons in 1787, in connection with the case of Warren Hastings. When the House of Commons resolved to impeach Warren Hastings, Sheridan was chosen as one of the managers. He was called upon to reproduce as far as possible his splendid oration of the preceding year.

Mr. Sheridan always lived and acted without any regular system for the government of his conduct, and for the last few years of his public life he seldom spoke in Parliament. He terminated his political career with a splendid proof of eloquence. This was in 1812, when the overtures for peace which had then recently been made by France were the subject of discussion.

Sheridan died in poverty and disgrace, deserted by all save one or two of his old friends, on Sunday, July 7, 1816, in the sixty-fifth year of his age.

ROBERT COCHRANE.