There the Afric brain, whose story fills the centuries with its

glory,

Moulds the Gaul and Carthaginian into one all-conquering band, With his tuskèd monsters grumbling, 'mid the alien snow-drifts

stumbling,

Then an avalanche of ruin thundering from that frozen land, Into vales their sons declare, are

Sunny as our Riviera.

Tired of these the mighty mother sought among her types

another

Stamp of blended saint and hero, only seen on earth before

In the luminous aureole shining round a maiden's soul

Through four hundred sluggish years; till she sends on Nizza's shore

Now, the hero of Caprera,

Born upon our Riviera.

Ever, ever, in our musing, comes man's spirit interfusing Thought of poet and of hero with the landscape and the sky; And this shore no longer lonely, lives the life of romance only; With its Gauls and Moors and Sea-Kings, spectral troops proceeding by,

For with Nature man is sharer,
Even on the Riviera.

Feeble voice! no longer stammer words which shame the pan

orama

Seen from all the mountain-passes of this old Aurelian way, With the shore below us sleeping, and the distant steamer

creeping

From Marseilles to proud Genova, on to Spezzia's famous bay, But forever, mia cara,

Shall we love this Riviera.

VINETA.

[A TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN.]

Under ocean evening bells are swinging,
Muffled by the waters, faint and slow-
Telling by their wild, unearthly ringing
Of a strange old city down below.

Looking downward, mid the currents darkling,
Spires and towers and walls are dimly seen;
Radiance from their roofs of silver sparkling
Glitters upward through the waters green.

He, whose bark above that sunken city

Through the evening twilight once has gone, Drawn henceforth by secret love and pity, Steers forever to that mystery lone.

So within my heart the bells are swinging,
Faint and slow they sound on memory's shore.
Ah! I hear their strange, unearthly ringing,
Telling of the Love which comes no more.

Dearest hopes therein are sunk forever,

Through the tide of time their memory gleams; Faith and Truth, whose glory faileth never, Glitter through the current of my dreams.

And those dear illusive echoes falling
From an unseen world, so far apart,
Sound like angel-voices, ever calling

From that sunken city, in my heart.

Helen Gray bone.

A CONSERVATIVE.

"Your Spring," he said, "I hate; now blast, now breeze;
All weathers mixed; sharp change, confusion dire!
An easy-chair, a vast December fire,

A fine old russet folio-give me these!
Birds' twitterings at the dawn my ear displease,
My dreams disturb. What eye could ever tire
Of orderly white ways? could e'er desire
The foolish haze of May? Such wishes tease
No sober mind!"

Yet none the less did break

Green from the glebe; the conèd chestnuts gave Faint fragrance out; the robin's breast would make

A flame a-field; the snow he could not save! And Spring on Spring, as wave in strong wave's wake, Still rolls, a bloomy billow, o'er his grave.

NARCISSUS IN CAMDEN.

[A CLASSICAL DIALOGUE OF THE YEAR 1882.]

("In the course of his lecture Mr.

remarked that the most impressive

On the

room he had vet entered in America was the one in Camden town where he met-—. It contained plenty of fresh air and sunlight. table was a simple cruse of water." . . .)

PAUMANOKIDES-NARCISSUS.

PAUMANOKIDES.

Who may this be?

This young man clad unusually, with loose locks, languorous, glidingly toward me advancing,

Toward the ceiling of my chamber his orbic and expressive eye-balls uprolling,

As I have seen the green-necked wild-fowl the mallard in the

thundering of the storm,

By the weedy shore of Paumanok my fish-shaped island.

Sit down, young man !

I do not know you, but I love you with burning intensity, I am he that loves the young men, whosoever and wheresoever they are or may be hereafter, or may have been any time in the past,

Loves the eye-glassed literat, loves also and probably more the vender of clams, raucous-throated, monotonouschanting,

Loves the Elevated Railroad employé of Mannahatta, my city; I suppress the rest of the list of the persons I love, solely because I love you,

Sit down élève, I receive you!

NARCISSUS.

O clarion, from whose brazen throat

Strange sounds across the sea are blown,

Where England, girt as with a moat,
A strong sea-lion, sits alone!

A pilgrim from that white-cliffed shore,

What joy, large flower of Western land!
To seek thy democratic door,

With eager hand to clasp thy hand!

PAUMANOKIDES.

Right you are!

Take then the electric pressure of these fingers, O my comrade!

I do not doubt you are the one I was waiting for, as I loaf'd here enjoying my soul,

Let us two under all and any circumstances stick together from this out!

NARCISSUS.

Seeing that isle of which I spake but late

By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
The grand Greek limbs of young Democracy
Beckoned me thence to this ideal State,
Where maiden fields of life Hellenic wait

For one who in clear culture walks apart
(Avoiding all rude clamors of the mart
That mar his calm) to sow the seeds of great
Growths yet to be-the love of sacred Art,
And Beauty, of this breast queen consecrate,
Whose throne mean Science seeks to violate;
The flawless artist's lunacy serene,

His purely passionate and perfect hate

And noble scorn of all things Philistine.

PAUMANOKIDES.

Hold up there, Camerado!