But their star-brothers

Speak to them, answer them.

Richly and richlier

Flaming they come;
Then all at once,

Everywhere! everywhere!

Blindingly infinite.

Stand over me.

Star-worlds and thoughts.

Now in her glory

Out of the flood
Rises the moon
Throwing across

A highway of light,
And the star-brothers
Wander upon it,
To thee, Belovéd.
The sea is resplendent
And the palm-garlanded
Spurs of the mountains!
The earth is resplendent,
Resplendent the heavens
Arrayed in the moonbeams
And in thy love, Dearest!

RICHARD LEANDER.

Tr. Robert Haven Schauffler.

THE APENNINES

PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES

LISTEN, listen, Mary mine,

To the whisper of the Apennine;

It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar,
Or like the sea on a northern shore,

Heard in its raging ebb and flow

By the captives pent in the cave below.
The Apennine in the light of day
Is a mighty mountain dim and gray,

Which between the earth and sky doth lay;
But when night comes, a chaos dread

On the dim starlight then is spread,

And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

TO THE APENNINES

YOUR peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines!
In the soft light of these serenest skies;
From the broad highland region, black with pines,
Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,

Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold
In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.

There, rooted to the aerial shelves that wear

The glory of a brighter world, might spring Sweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air And heaven's fleet messengers might rest the wing,

To view the fair earth in its summer sleep,
Silent, and cradled by the glimmering deep.

Below you lie men's sepulchres, the old

Etrurian tombs, the graves of yesterday;

The herd's white bones lie mixed with human mould,―

Yet up the radiant steeps that I survey

Death never climbed, nor life's soft breath, with

pain,

Was yielded to the elements again.

Ages of war have filled these plains with fear:
How oft the hind has started at the clash
Of spears, and yell of meeting armies here,

Or seen the lightning of the battle flash

From clouds, that, rising with the thunder's sound, Hung like an earth-born tempest o'er the ground!

Ah me! what armed nations-Asian horde

And Lybian host, the Scythian and the Gaul— Have swept your base and through your passes poured,

Like ocean-tides uprising at the call

Of tyrant winds,—against your rocky side
The bloody billows dashed, and howled, and died.

How crashed the towers before beleaguering foes,
Sacked cities smoked, and realms were rent in

twain;

And commonwealths against their rivals rose, Trod out their lives, and earned the curse of

Cain:

While in the noiseless air and light that flowed
Round your far brows, eternal Peace abode.

Here pealed the impious hymn, and altar flames
Rose to false gods, a dream-begotten throng,
Jove, Bacchus, Pan, and earlier fouler names;
While, as the unheeding ages passed along,
Ye, from your station in the middle skies,
Proclaimed the essential Goodness, strong and
wise.

In you the heart that sighs for freedom seeks Her image; there the winds no barrier know, Clouds come, and rest, and leave your fairy peaks; While even the immaterial Mind, below,

And Thought, her winged offspring, chained by

'power,

Pine silently for the redeeming hour.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

SAVONA

SAVONA

VESPERS ON THE SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN

At Savona, a very ancient little city on the coast of Genoa, there stands by the lighthouse a Madonna about two feet high, under which are inscribed two Sapphic verses, which are both good Latin and choice Italian,-made by Gabriello Chiabrera, "the prince of Italian lyric poets," who was a native of Savona,

"In mare irato, in subita procella,
Invoco te, nostra benigna stella.”

RELIGION's purest presence was not found,

By the first followers of our Saviour's creed, In stately fanes where trump and timbrel sound Sent up the chorus in a strain agreed,

And where the decked oblation's wail might plead For guilty man with Abraham's holy seed.

Not in vast domes,-horizons hung by men,
Where golden panels fret a marble sky,