Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell
thee,

We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me,
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy
Marcius,

Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banished, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in,
And take our friendly senators by th' hands;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much.

SHAKESPEARE.

WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET SILENT THOUGHT.

SONNET.

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,
Which I new pay, as if not paid before;
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

SHAKESPEARE.

FRIENDS FAR AWAY.

COUNT not the hours while their silent wings
Thus waft them in fairy flight;
For feeling, warm from her dearest springs,
Shall hallow the scene to-night.
And while the music of joy is here,

And the colors of life are gay,

Let us think on those that have loved us dear, The Friends who are far away.

Few are the hearts that have proved the truth
Of their early affection's vow;
And let those few, the beloved of youth,
Be dear in their absence now.
O, vividly in their faithful breast

Shall the gleam of remembrance play,
Like the lingering light of the crimson west,
When the sunbeam hath passed away!

Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours,
And calm be the seas they roam !
May the way they travel be strewed with flowers
Till it bring them in safety home!
And when we whose hearts are o'erflowing thus
Ourselves may be doomed to stray,
May some kind orison rise for us,
When we shall be far away!

HORACE TWISS.

THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.

"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other."- WASHINGTON IRVING.

Two baiks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.

And voices of the fair and brave

Rose mingling thence in mirth;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.

Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept;
While dancing step and festive strain
Each deck in triumph swept.

And hands were linked, and answering eyes
With kindly meaning shone;
O, brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown!

A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,

Till the loud singing winds at last
Like trumpet music rose.

For certain sums of gold, which you
denied me;
For I can raise no money by vile means:
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me: Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

CAS. Come, Antony, and young Octavius,

come,

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,

And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst
him better

Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

BRU.
Sheath your dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.

O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;

Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

CAS.

Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?

BRU. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. CAS. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

BRU. And my heart too.

THEY tell me I am shrewd with other men ;
With thee I'm slow, and difficult of speech.
With others I may guide the car of talk :
Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reach.

If other guests should come, I'd deck my hair,
And choose my newest garment from the shelf;
When thou art bidden, I would clothe my heart
With holiest purpose, as for God himself.

For them I while the hours with tale or song,
Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme;
But how to find a fitting lay for thee,

Who hast the harmonies of every time?

TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.

MERRY Margaret,

As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower;
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,

So maidenly,

So womanly

Her demeaning,
In everything
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write,
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon

Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good-will,
As fair Isiphil,
Coliander,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought;
Far may be sought
Ere you can find

So courteous, so kind,

As merry Margaret,

This midsummer flower,

Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower.

"Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore Heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled
With all graces wide enlarged:
Nature presently distilled
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part,

Sad Lucretia's modesty.

Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devised; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.

SHAKESPEARE.

PHILLIS THE FAIR.

ON a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,

Fringed all about with gold, Where doth sit the fairest fair

That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherd's joy,
She that Venus did despite,

And did blind her little boy.

Who would not that face admire ?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire?
Though he thought to see no more.

Thou that art the shepherd's queen,
Look upon thy love-sick swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

NICHOLAS BRETON