Thinking of worthies, which in times have swayed,
Ha! what an one is here to be surveyed!
O! it is rare to see a Judge So ev'n!
More justly guided by the lawes of heaven,
Ah! then the present Keeper, who to view,
So ev'nly passeth in a compasse true!

Com tri't , who list, so ev'n his beame doth stand!
O! 'tis th' admired ev'nes of his hand!
Venture your life, it shall on no side sway,
Either to one or other, past the way,
Not what way pleaseth him; but what is just:
Then com and tri't who dares. To end, I trust,

Where liberall Arts, and Sciences divine
Inrich the heart, who in their knowledge shine,
Lives mildnes there; for the mild liberall arts
Lend, nay ingraft it on the gentle hearts,
In whom a residence they hap to gaine:
And your innobled heart, where Muses raine,
Much of their mildnes doubtles doth retaine.

Many affirme, that Anagrams declare
A hidden nature of the mans whose they're:
If true in you, then you affect to be
Nam'd in their Roules who loved poetric;
Amongst great Pollio, Gallus, Varus , e'rst

That peere to be most brave may truly boast,
Having a noble heart, that will lend most ,
O then most noble Brudenell , y'are right,
Most men you lend , to walke by glorious light,
A good example, whereby they may tread,
Securely vertues steps, if taking heede.

Brave that you may be too, you well display,
Rightly compassions glorious helping ray;
Very much with your bounty such re eeving
Devoid of comfort, who for want sit grieving;
Ever your bounteous heart doth larger stretch,
Not resting till a larger bound it reach;

Well may you wary be, fith you arise,
Inriched as a Iuell of great Prize;
Lustrous although you be, yet mine you are,
Love makes that each one hath in you a share;
In which regard, as you a Iuell be;
And as each one doth claime a share in thee:
More care a great deale is there to be had,

Heroicke spark, least all our hopes should fade:
And least the Luster of thy Iewell lost,
Rightly may each complaine, how he is crost,
Virtue then nobly still retaine in you,
Evermore so a worthy Jewell true,
You shall not feare to stand to every view.

As thou sittest there
 Skerry-bound and fair,
Mountains high around and ocean's deep before thee,
 On thee casts her spell
  Saga , that shall tell
Once again the wonders of our land.

 Honor is thy due,
 “Bergen never new,”
Ancient and unaging as thy Holberg's humor;
 Once kings sought thine aid,—
 Mighty now in trade,—
First to fly the flag of liberty.

 Oft in proud array,
 As a sunshine-day
Breaks forth from thy rain and fog wind-driven,
 Thou didst come with men
 Or great deeds again,

(In her lodgings)

To-day King Harald
Must hold his ting-peace;
For Einar has here
Five hundred peasants.

Our son Eindride
Safeguards his father,
Who goes in fearless
The King defying.

Thus maybe Harald,
Mindful that Einar
Has crowned in Norway
Two men with kingship,

Will grant that peace be,
On law well grounded;
This was his promise,
His people's longing. —

Where may she of the hall bedroom hold the love-hour?
In what sweet privacy find her soul before the face of the beloved?
And the kiss that lifts her from the noise of the shop,
And the bitter carelessness of the streets?
Neither is there garden nor secret parlor for her:
And cruel winter has spoiled the shores of the sea;
The benches in the park are laden with melting snow,
And the bedroom forbidden ...

But ah, the love of a woman! She will not be cheated!
Up the stoop she went to the vestibule of the house,

Here hast thou before thee that constellation
Whereunder was born thy light;
These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation
Will fashion thy life with might.
Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know,
They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go
And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.
Thou first shalt them gather,
Then choose thine own, —
So canst thou the rather
Grope on alone.

Just think! some night the stars will gleam
Upon a cold, grey stone,
And trace a name with silver beam,
And lo! 'twill be your own.

That night is speeding on to greet
Your epitaphic rhyme.
You life is but a little beat
Within the heart of Time.

A little gain, a little pain,
A laugh, lest you may moan;
A little blame, a little fame,
A star-gleam on a stone.

At dawn of day the white land lay all gruesome-like and grim,
When Bill Mc'Gee he says to me: " We've got to do it, Jim.
" We've got to make Fort Liard quick. I know the river's bad,
" But, oh! the little woman's sick ... why! don't you savvy, lad? "
And me! Well, yes, I must confess it wasn't hard to see
Their little family group of two would soon be one of three.
And so I answered, careless-like: " Why, Bill! you don't suppose
" I'm scared of that there " babbling brook"? Whatever you say — goes. "