TO MAJOR-GENERAL W — — .

There's a glorious group in Parian stone,
Which made the sculptor a deathless name;
War stands with his strong arm gently thrown
Round beauty, that lives in immortal fame,
By the gods conceded the brightest and best;
Her light hand lies on his manly breast,
To find, as it were, how his great heart stirs.
His noble eyes look down on hers —
That look which only love confers —
While hers beam tenderly up to him

Three kings have met by the Northern Sea
(And it seems the kingdoms are less by two),
And I wonder what the idea can be —
And, somehow or other, I wish I knew.
For one has come from my father's land,
That used to be mighty in days of yore,
And one has come from the Danish strand,
And the three have met on the Swedish shore.

Considering Europe, the War and all,
And floating mines that have raised their ire,

See the Lord, thy Keeper, stand,
Omnipotently near!
Lo, he holds thee by the hand,
And banishes thy fear,
Shadows with his wings thy head,
Guards from all impending harms!
Round thee and beneath are spread
The everlasting arms.

Faithful soul, pray always; pray,
And still in God confide:
He thy faltering steps shall stay,
Nor suffer thee to slide.
Lean upon thy Father's breast,
He thy quiet spirit keeps;
Rest in him, securely rest, —
Thy Watchman never sleeps.

God shall bless thy going out,

A PROLOGUE, DELIVERED ON THE OCCASION OF AN AMATEUR PERFORMANCE OF HAMLET FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE SOLDIERS' FAMILIES IN CINCINNATI, FEBRUARY 6, 1865.

Our soldiers' families! How the fancy roams,
And finds these patient patriots in their homes;
Finds them at quiet firesides — nobly there —
Waiting beside the hero's empty chair;
Beside the chair, perchance, which never more
Shall know the occupant it knew of yore.

Look in to-night beside that tranquil fire;
There sits the mother, there the aged sire;
Or there the wife, with matron accents mild,

Miss
As mild as April-falling Show'rs,
Not a single Look that low'rs;
Neat and elegant in Dress,

Many Charms I can't express;
As D IANA'S lovely Mein,
Thus a Sister Goddess seen;
How unequal are my Lays,
Ev'ry striking Grace to praise;
What a pow'rful Charm to bind,
Such a sweet, good-natur'd Mind!

I cannot walk in darkness long, —
My Light is by my side;
I cannot stumble or go wrong,
While following such a guide.

I see his presence in the night,
And, though my heart is awed,
I do not quail beneath the sight
Or nearness of my God.

He is my stay and my defence, —
How shall I fail or fall?
My Helper is Omnipotence,
My Ruler ruleth all!

The powers below and powers above
Are subject to his care:
I cannot wander from his love
Who loves me everywhere.

Is there no God in all the circling spheres,
No Love deep-throbbing through the endless years,
No Wisdom to construct the shining dome,
And for the weary soul no rest, no home?

Soul, struggle on! Within the darkest night
Still broods the majesty of deathless Right:
If to its promptings clear thou still art true,
The larger, sweeter lights will flash to view;

The stars will shine, and the blue pomp of day,
And to thine ear the Everlasting Yea
Will breathe its music and its lofty song;
And we shall know that Beauty still is strong;

I see the wrong that round me lies,
I feel the guilt within;
I hear, with groan and travail-cries
The world confess its sin:

Yet in the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed stake my spirit clings, —
I know that God is good!

Not mine to look where cherubim
And seraphs may not see;
But nothing can be good in him
Which evil is in me.

The wrong that pains my soul below
I dare not throne above;
I know not of his hate, — I know
His goodness and his love.

Semper Avarus Eget.

I.

Cries Gripus, gloating on his Pelf,
O! what a noble Passion!
Since Love of Gain increases more,
The more we get Possession.

II.

Thus M**** N thinks; — such dirty Souls
Are never worth our heeding;
Then fare you well, we give you Joy
Of this your constant Breeding .

All the night, in broken slumber,
I went down the world of dreams,
Through a land of war and turmoil
Swept by loud and labouring streams,
Where the masters wandered, chanting
Ponderous and tumultuous themes.

Chanting from unwieldy volumes
Iron maxims stern and stark,
Truths that swept, and burst, and stumbled
Through the ancient rifted dark;
Till my soul was tossed and worried,
Like a tempest-driven bark.

But anon, within the distance,
Stood the village vanes aflame,
And the sunshine, filled with music,