LOW ELL J A MES RUSSELL , — 1819 1891 .

J A M ES R U S S E LL LOW E LL .

It may justlybe said of that he always

. is remained a boy It true that the years came ,

UBRARY U . O'I - . 'Ram m flama —380 his hair turned gray , and his step grew less sprightly , but he kept always the heart of youth and foun d it easy to see things from the point of view of the boy . He n ever lost his interest f s in the af air of everyday life , and there was always something new for him to see and to n enjoy . It was this quality of youthful ess of spirit that with others made him inte resting as a boy and charming as a man . to The ancestors of Lowell had been Neyv j n g landers for alm ost two centuries before he was v born . The first one of his relati es who cam e to this country was , a merchant inR oxbur from Bristol , England , who settled yh 16 9 ’ 8 . , in The Lowell s became known at once for their intelligence , for their l n interest in education , and for their activity i1 i n all d ect o s. They trained their sons rigidly to labor , and when they were old enough they sent them to Harvard College from whence they entered the professions of the ministry or of the law .

John Lowell , the grandfather of James Rus a offi sell , was graduate of Harvard College , an cer of the m ili tia at the time of the Revolution ary War , and a delegate to the convention that framed the constitution of Massachusetts . It was he who suggested the phrase “ all men are born free and equal ” which he hoped would be instrumental in doing away with slavery in the 1789 state . He was , in , made United States - 381

s Judge of the District of Mas achusetts , yet with all his legal duties he found time to give his aid in the founding of the American Academy of

Arts and Sciences , and occasionally to write a r poem o to give a public address . All of his sons graduated from Harvard C ollegef John became a writer of some note ; Francis was a successful merchant who founded , and for

’

M W O O D O W S H O M . EL , L ELL E

whom was named , the city of Lowell , Massa chusetts ; Charles , the father of James Russell , after his graduation , travelled for some time and then was settled over the West Unitarian w Church of , here he remained as pastor until his death as a very old man . ’ Lowell s genius , however , cannot be wholly —382

attri buted to the fact that he had a good anoes ’

on . m try his father s side His other , too , came ” t from good s ock , and was a sister of Robert 1s Traill Spence of the United States Navy . It from her that her son is said to have inherited his v iyid imagination and his strong sense of

humor . Not many men are so fortunate in their

ancestors as was Lowell . ”fl 22d Lowell was born on the of February , 1819 w , a day of the month which another ell kno wn and celebrated American claimed as his

birthday . The house in which Lowell first saw the light was a large frame structure standing n then on the outskirts of Cambridge and know , Elm the as wood . then and now , h It was in

‘ midst of a large cultivated field , at that time , an d un i s was overh g by huge elm trees , as it

- to day . Nearly half a m ile away was Fresh l Pond , a small lake on which as a boy Lowe l W o on e skated in inter , and beyond the h use h could catc a view of the Charles River . Just \ on the edge of the village and some distance S away the Craigie House could be een , famous in the Revolutionary War as the headquarters as of Washington , and famous later the home B ut of the poet Longfellow . the village has t o come out meet the house long since , and the meadows in which Lowell played as a boy have been cut up into building lots and are dotted b e with houses . The old mansion , built long of fore Lowell was born , looks sadly out date —383 n ow , in comparison with its more modern neigh b s the ors , and the visitor who see it for first time wonders question in glyw hy it is not kept in better repair , as it should be , being the birth place of so great a man . Lowell w as t he youngest of afam ily of seven ‘ children and was naturally petted a great deal . He did n ot develop mentally with any unusual d rapidity , but he was an attractive , han some s n boy , whose alertness and ympathetic ature won for him the love of everyone . He was a

u w as . real boy , too , for tho gh he quick to learn , yet he liked to play out of doors rather than be

s . shut up in the house to tudy Like Holmes , he e n joyed as a boy the long drives which he often took with his father when the elder Low ell wen t into some of the surrounding village s un to exchange S day services with other pastors . an d u The little boy was a keen observer , no do bt the impression s he received of the plain country folk who came out to hear his father preach helped him in later years when he characterized so well the dwellers in New England . w Lo ell had always been fond of reading , and w the Rev . Charles Lo ell had a good many books in his library , some of which his son learned to read very early . He was a wide reader always , and this habit is perhaps responsible for much v o f his ease and vi acity in conversation . Some of the first money which he earned he spent fo r books . —384 m d At an early age Lowell , like most Ca bri ge ’ boys , was sent to a dame s school . He did not was stay here long , however , for when he h eig t or nine years of age , he entered a board

ing school kept by a Mr . Wells , who lived

near Elmwood . Mr . Wells was an educated Englishman who thought that it did boys n o harm to teach them to obey and who was not

T H H O U I N H I H I D H I A T H R R E S E W C LO W ELL L V E W LE A V A D .

averse to using the rod , if necessary , to bring a about this end . After he h d taught his boys to obey, he taught them Latin , and Lowell profited by both lessons . The letters which he wrote to his brother soon after entering this school are very much like those we should ex ect p a boy to write , for they showed a great deal of carelessness both in pun ctuation and h spelling , and they revealed the fact t at he —385

thought much more of play than of study , as

perhaps a healthy boy should do . ’ t o W hen Lowell was fifteen years old he was able to pass the freshman examinations for

entrance to Harvard College . He was a bashful be boy , but he formed friends easily and soon

came well known in college . There were few

students then to know , however , for the total n ot enrollment did exceed two hundred . There n ot a i were m ny nstructors either , but some of

them were men of great ability . Two years after Lowell entered college Lon gfellow became

professor of modern languages . Lowell en j oyed the life which he lived at col e l ge ; he was not a close student , but he liked to a d read , n he enjoyed spending his money for , books . Poetry attracted him perhaps more than other things , and he says of himself that he was fondest of the poetry of Spenser . He began to show some poetic ability soon after he entered college ; among the first things he did ' l m was to tran s ate so e odes of Horace . Occa sion all y he wrote for the college paper , but he did little really worthy of publication until after hi his graduation . At the beginning of s junior year he was elected a member of the Hasty n Pudding Club , a society still existi g at Har vard University which young men feel proud to become members of , and he at once was made secretary of the society . He said this honor m ca e to him because he could write poetry , and - 386

had the records of the society to be kept in verse . He made up his mind while in college to study law and said j okingly that if he did he should be chief justice of the United States . He was i H arv ardian a elected one of the ed tors of the , the college magazine at that tim e , a fact which he said flattered his v apgty sm ce he was one of the youngest men in his class . He was never studious in college an d was especially negligent

during his senior year . He would not apply u so himself to the necessary st dies , that he was finally suspended for several m onths and sent to Concord to be tutored by the minister of the

town . He had a pretty easy time here , though he did not enj oy it very well and did some seri ous thinking He occupied himself part of the m time in writing his class poe , which , however ,

he was not allowed to read , but which was

printed and distributed among his classmates . After havin g received his degree in the fall of

1838 he returned to Cambridge . His serious thoughts at Concord must have ff had some e ect u pon him , for he talked of a i nt h bec om in a entering v’g y sc ool and of g '

m inister . He tho ught more upon the small salary that min isters received than did most

people , and said that it was necessary for every man who entered the ministry to ha v e an inde

pendent income . He decided in the end that he c ould not endure the hardships and poverty ’ of a ministers life and turned his attention - 387

instead to the study of law . One of the things which confirmed him in his resolution to become a lawyer w as the fact that he at one time heard

Webster making a plea before a Boston jury . Soon after his graduation he began reading Blackstone and later entered the law school of

Harvard University . He often wavered in his purpose and sought comfort in poetry , but he could never quite make up his mind to give up 1889 the law . He was successful about in hav in g some of his poems published , a fact which n u t o o do bt encouraged him . He began think t at his time , too , of publishing a volume of

poems . One time he would be sure that he was to t be a grea lawyer , and another time even

more certain that he could never come to like it . He remained at Harv ard law school until 1840

when he took the degree of bachelor of laws . He had become by this time more reconciled to ‘ a s seeffied the practice of law , especially it nec essary for him to earn his own living on account of the fact that his father had recently lost a t great par of the fortune which he possessed . Another fact made it even more necessary for him eu to earn something , for he had become

gaged to Miss Maria White , whom he could not hope to m arry until he had a definite means of “ support for himself and for her' He was in

deed very much in love , and so he summoned

all his energies to succeed . Early in 1840 he brought out a small volume ~w 388a w ’ of poems under the title of A Y ear s Life . Many of these poems w ere inspired by the woman he expected to make his wife . Many of them were crude , perhaps , but some still stand among his best and compare favorably

s . n with his later verses . He say that Mrs Lo g fellow was the first to praise him , and that she so warmed his heart to her that it never grew

. h the rac cold Thoug . he supposedly kept up p tice of law , yet his chief interest was in litera it ture , and he worked at quite as much as he did at his profession . He was still practical in m and any ways , said once to a friend that be side s the business of writing poems he was en gaged in raising the finest chickens in the h neig borhood . In 1844 he published a second volume of verse which was so successful that it revealed to him the fact that literature was a more fittm g pro fession him for than the law . He tried his 1845 hand at prose , as well as at poetry , and in published his “ Conversations on Some of the ” Old Poet s . He made some m oney from this publication and said that it made him feel rich . From the beginnin g he had made more money from writing poetry than had many of the bet 1848 ter poets of America . It was in , also , that

Lowell did his first real editorial work . He was for a time connected with the Pioneer , a paper for which Poe , Hawthorne , Longfellow and

others wrote . The literary venture was , how m a sseu ~ ev e s s u r , un ucces f l , and the paper soon stopped publication for want of support , leaving its edi tor to carry a heavy debt . 1844 He was married in December , , and though his income was still small , he was happy . For the first few months after their m arriage o h the young c uple lived in Philadelphia , but t ey returned to Elmwood in June , and in the next

December a little d aughter was born to them . About this time he pu blished the well known L un f l Vision of Sir a a . This last poem it is said n he composed almost at one sitting , taki g little time either to eat or to sleep during the two days he was engaged upon it . ’ As his fame spread , Lowell s innate modesty revealed itself . He wanted to be known , he for but said , his real worth , he disliked much

- to be over praised for external qualities , even h thoug they might appear to be attractive o n es . He said that he would have given half his life if he might have shirked upon someone else the praise and flattery that people generally think to be the pleasantes t part of a literary reputa tion . We get the most complete impression of Low ’ ell s character from his letters . In these he off tells us that putting things was his fault , and that he really seldom liked to write . He pu t off writing the poems or the articles that he t had promised , jus as many of us weaker mor l ta s too often do , until he had to hurry to get - 390

1 them done in t me . His letters reveal his n char eristi cs stro ger a‘ tfi , also , his practical good v e1 satilit sense , his y, his tenderness , his loyalty n h to all his frie ds , and all the qualities whic show him to be a real hum an being like the rest

of us .

” 196 The subject of slav ery was being widely dis ’ cussed during Lowell s early manhood and he

- soon allied himself with the anti slavery cause . In 1846 he was writing articles for the London

Daily News and for the Anti - Slavery Standard Y of New ork . For this work which he did for w the Standard he received ten dollars a eek , a sum which helped him much at a time when he f f ound it hard to live . Though he elt that he should not take money when he was supporting n a principle , yet he had no means of livi g unless

, he did so . It was at this time , or about this

time , also , that there appeared in the Boston

Courier the first of his Bigelow Papers . These papers were written in the Y ankee dialect by Y an alleged Mr . Hosea Bigelow , a ankee farm M er , and were edited by Homer Wilbur , A . . , a pastor of thefirst church at Jaal m . By these

sketches , Lowell hoped to express the feel ings which he had agam st slavery and the con h duct of the Mexican War , and he thoug t these feelings could be better expressed and would appeal to a greater number of people if he put

his thoughts into the mouth of a comm on man . s w The paper ere witty , scholarly , and showed - 391 d the keenest ju gment of human nature . Their W simplicity , and the fact that they ere written in diglect made Lowell one of the strongest

O pponents of slavery America has ever had . He ' wroteanon ymously because he said he wished hv slavery to a e as many enemies as possible , and the general public already knew that Lowell was opposed to slavery . It was a source of great amusement to him to hear the discussions which were prov oked by these papers . Some of the people were sure that he had written them ; others were free to express the 0 p1n 1on that he could not have done such work . He had a hard time during the years imme diatel y succeeding his marriage , but this fact i i him d d not we gh upon . He was pretty poor for several years and was forced to depend for his living almost entirely upon the income he derived from what he wrote , and this was often h small ; but he kept his yout ful spirits . He says of him self that he felt like a boy behind a bearded visor and that he could not come to consider himself anything but a boy . He seems des den t r never to have been pgm , neve to have lost heart no matter how things were going . His natural cheerfulness seems always to have n o m an been a sure cure for the blues , and can read what he wrote without feeling that it is a very delightful thin g to li v e and to be able to He s w s a n work . aid that he a lways eeding money , but that no man could , when necessary

get on with less than he . 185 1 m In he and his wife ade a trip to Europe .

His second daughter had recently died , Mrs . ’ n o w Lowell s health , at its best poor , was very h m l ht frail , and it was hoped t at the change g

bring about an improvement . They were absent

for a year and a half , traveling through south n ern and western Europe , returning home i the

1852 . . fall of Within a year Mrs Lowell died ,

and the poet was left alone . He had depended u much pon his wife , to whom he constantly re

ferred in his letters , and her death left him for

a time almost stranded . He still had one little

daughter , however , and work helped him to

forget his sorrows . We find little in his corre s on den ce p to show his grief , for even in his 1 t n atu1 e g ea tes trials his cheerful asserted itself . W 1855 1 esi n a tion In , on the g of Longfellow , Lowell was made professor of modem languages

at Ha1 va1 d University . Only two men had

filled the position before him , George Ticknor

and Longfellow . Each of these had done a h he great work for whic was ably fitted . ’ n Though Lowell s trai ing had been excellent , he felt that if he were to make an equally good m record , he ust be prepared as well as possible . He therefore went abroad again for two years

of study before beginning his work . He spent

- he his time in Italy , France and Spain , where became prettythoroughly acquain ted with the - 393 literatures and the languages of these countries .

As an instructor , he did as much as anyone in America to arouse interest in modern Euro pean literature . His classes were most p opu ori al lar , for he was sympathetic , witty , and gip n in his methods , so that he held the attentio i even of the in dii eren t students . Like most was modest men , he often in doubt as to the f his h e ficiency of work , and labored ard over h no t t e lectures which he gave . He did have the reputation of making students work ex trem el l y hard , though few left his c asses with i out havin g been st M J ated to think and to act . he Here , as elsewhere , did not always take things seriously , for he could seldom resist the temptation to j oke or to make the play upon words which was so easy for him . He was a u discerning fair , and sing larly pertinent in what he had to say ; he is still counted among the best critics America has ever known . 1 ' In 85 7 the Atlantic Monthly was founded . i Holmes , Longfellow and Emerson were nter ested in it , and contributed to it , but Lowell was the first editor . The ye ar that he took up the work of this magazine he was married for the second time . A few years later , with Pro fessor Charles Eliot Norton , he became editor ' of the North American Review . The ansas struggle of 1856—1858 interested him much and n called forth a number of articles from his p e . At the beginni n g of the Civil War he was led to - 394 ' h h . w o had ad revive Mr Hosea Bigelow , so W ar an d much to say on the Mexican , who had f said it so ef ectively . The second series of papers was quite as good as the first had been and aroused the attention of readers both in America and in Europe . Throughout the years which followed the open 1n g of the war , he wrote constantly and vigor ”

ousl . y His Commemoration Ode , written in 1865 in , has been called the noblest elegy

America . It is written in memory of the sol diers who went to the war from Har v ard Col n lege . He had begun before this time to fi d existence more easy than it had been in pre n cedi g years . He was paid liberally for his e poems , though his books wer not yet having a large sale . Though he was not niggardly , he ' ' 1865 liked to make money . In he says he was getting one hundred dollars for each of the shorter poems he w as writing an d twice that much for the longe r ones . He said of himself that his luck was a puzzle to him . 1877 In Mr . Lowell was appointed by Presi dent Hayes minister to Spain , a place which he u 1880 e held ntil , when he was made minist r to

England . He enj oyed his life at Madrid on account of the fact that he was thoroughly interested in the Spanish language . In London he showed his ready wit and his diplomacy and gave to the English people a higher idea of what a true American gentleman is than they had

m well trained , versatile , and able to do any t hings excellently . He was equally distin uished g as a poet,a critic , a scholar , an essayist , an d as a diplgm at . Lowell never really gav e up his active life ; though his years increased yet he never seemed to take note of the passage of time . Neither as a speaker nor as a writer did his power seem to wane . Until his death he remained a lover of books . Not only was he fond of them for their own sake , but he loved equally well to sit before t he open fire and read . Though he had more books than most literary men ever collect , yet the greater part of his library , it is said , showed the mark of much use . He read widely and an d traveled in many countries , the languages i l teratures of which he knew well , but few men w ere so little changed by travel in their attitude as he m en toward their own country , and few remained so truly Americ an .

As old age came on , he perhaps stayed within doors more regularly than he had done before he liked to hear the logs crackling in the fire t place a li tle better than in former years , as he h f held his open book in his and , but the dif er e n ce seemed to end there . He could never work constantly ; he had to wait until he felt m like it , and then he seemed to be able to su mon all his powers and to write with an unusual speed . He seldom wrote a poem before it was w n promised to be done , and his lectures ere ofte - 397 not prepared until just before the class period in which they were to be delivered .

The last few years of his life were quiet ones . In 1887 he visited England again where he was received withthe enthusiasm that lu s work as minister had won for him . Everywhere he was ' paid the highest honors that the p eople c ould bestow upon him . He did not live at Elmwood for some time t 1889 af er the death of Mrs . Lowell , but in he n retur ed to the old house , where he had been born and where his childhood had been spent ,

h1s . to pass the rest of days Here , in August , 1891 a the , he p ssed away , having earned right to be named among the most versatile and the most characteristic Americans . Lowell ’s genius is so many sided that one can well call him great . He was the most . thor n oughly u selfish of men , always willing to sac rifice h imself for the sake of others , yet com m on lyshrewd enough to judge correctly when

- sacrific e self was wise . As a writer he had the widest range in his literary style , and did well perhaps more things than any other Am erican . r His knowledge was so g eat , his resources so u d bo ndless , that he was no doubt hindere from doing any one thing as well as he might hav e done it , had he had fewer talents . All his work is full of life and shows his or1g1 n ali ty and naturalne ss of method . He is h in always , even w en writing dialect , a master - 398 of words and always reveals the instincts of a‘ scholar . He p erhaps shows his greatest genius n in his prose essays , but he has gai ed his great est popularity through his humorous presenta tion of the Y ankee character speakin g in the 1 New England dialect , as seen in both ser es of the Bigelow Papers HOMA S R ' L E L A R ' T A C , i n Univers ty of Illi ois . SELECTIONS FROM JAMES RUSSELL

LOWELL .

THE HE R ITA G E I ’ so n h d The rich man s in erits lan s ,

And piles of brick , and stone , and gold , And he inherits soft white hands And tender flesh that fears the cold Nor dares to wear a garment old

A heritage , it seems to me ,

One scarce would wish to hold in fee . II ’ The rich man s son inherits cares;

The bank may break , the factory burn his l A breath may burst bubb e shares ,

And soft , white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn

A heritage , it seems to me , ca One s rce would wish to hold in fee .

III . ’ The rich man s son inherits wants , His stomach craves for dainty fare ;

With sated heart , he hears the pants Of toilin g bin ds with brown arms bare

And wearies in his easy - chair

A heritage , it seems to me , w One scarce ould wish to hold in fee .

IV . ’ W hat doth the poor man s son inherit ' ¢~ 4oo

Stout muscles and a sinewy heart ,

A hardy frame , a hardier spirit ' ing of two hands , he does his part In every useful toil and art ;

A heritage , it seems to me , i A king m ght wish to hold in fee .

V . What doth the poor man ’s son inherit ' ’ Wishes o erjoyed with humble things

a - m A r nk adjudged by toil won erit , Content that from employment springs A heart that in his labor sin gs ; a A herit ge , it seems to me , n A ki g might wish to hold in fee .

VI . ’ What doth the poor man s son inherit '

A patience learned of being poor , w c Courage , if sorro ome , to bear it ,

- A fellow feeling , that is sure To make the outcast bless his door ;

A heritage , it seems to me ,

A king might wish to hold in fee .

VII . Oh ’ ' , rich man s son there is a toil That with all others level stands

Large charity doth never soil , n d But only whitens , soft white ha s This 1 s the best crop from thy lands ; r A he itage , it seems to me ,

Worth being rich to hold in fee . ” 401 m

VIII . n’ ' Oh , poor ma s son scorn not thy state ;

There is worse weariness than thine , In m erely being rich and great ; Toil only makes the soul to shine And makes rest fragrant and ben 1 gn ;

A heritage , it seems to me ,

W orth being poor to hold in fee .

I' .

Both , heirs to some six feet of sod Are equal in the earth at last

Crod Both , children of the same dear Prove title to your heirship vast

By record of a well - filled past ;

A heritage , it seems to me ,

Well worth a life to hold in fee .

in

TO THE D A ND E L I ON.

I . ’ ro w st e Dear common flower , that g besid the

way , r u F inging the d sty road with harmless gold ,

First pledge of blithesome May , W h n l ich childre pluck , and , full of pride upho d , ’ er o ed High hearted buccaneers , o jy that they 1n An Eldorado the grass have found , ’ Which n ot the rich earth s ample round M a ymatch in wealth , thou art more dear to me

ha all - T n the prouder summer blooms may be . u - 402

II . Gold such as thine ne ’er drew the Spanish prow

Through the primeval hush of Indian seas , Nor wrinkled the lean brow ’ t o Of age , rob the lover s heart of ease ; ’ ’ T S rm s is the p g largess , which she scatters n o w

To rich and poor alike , with lavish hand , Though most hearts never understand it ’ To take at God s value , but pass by f u The of ered wealth with nrewarded eye .

III . Thou art my tropics and mine Italy ; To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime The eyes thou givest me Are in the heart and heed n ot space or time

Not in mid June the golden - cuirassed bee

Feels a more summer - like warm ravishment ’ the In white lily s breezy tent , fi His fragrant Sybaris , than I , when rst

'rom the dark green thy yellow circles burst .

IV .

Then think I of deep shadows on the grass , d Of mea ows where in sun the cattle graze ,

Where , as the breezes pass ,

The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways ,

Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass ,

Or whiten in the wind , of waters blue That from the distance sparkle through m So e woodland gap , and of a sky above ,

—404

- \

R H'B IO'IS o

I . d God sen s his teachers unto every age ,

To every clime , and every race of men , With revelations fitted to their growth

And shape of mind , nor gives the realm of Truth Into the selfish rule of one sole race Therefore each form of worship that hath swayed

The life of man , and given it to grasp

- The master key of knowledge , reverence , Infolds some germs of goodness and of right ; l the h E se never had eager soul , which loat es The slothful down of pampered ignorance ’ fi ful Found in it even a moment s t rest .

II . There is an instinct in the human heart hm t Whic akes that all the fables it ha h coined , To justify the re1gn of its belief ’ r r And st engthen it by beauty s ight divine ,

Veil in their inner cells a mystic gift ,

Which , like the hazel twig , in faithful hands

Points surely to the hidden springs of truth . in For , as in nature naught is made in va , But all things have within their hull of use A wisdom and a meaning which may speak Of spiritual secrets to the ear ’ Of spirit ; so , in whatsoe er the heart

Hath fashioned for a solace to itself , in s 1ration s To make its p suit its creed , And from the niggard hands of falsehood wring —405 e Its needful food of truth , th re ever is e A sympathy with Natur , which reveals ,

Not less than her own works , pure gleams light

And earn est parables of inward lore . Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece As full of gracious youth and beauty still As the immortal freshness of that grace

Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze .

A youth named Rhoecus wandering in the

wood , S aw an old oak just trembling to its fall A n d so , feeling pity of fair a tree ,

He propped its gray trunk with admiring care ,

1 And with a thoughtless footstep loitered on .

But , as he turned , he heard a voice behind , “ ” ’ That murmured Rhoecus ' T was as if the

leaves ,

Stirred by a passing breath , had murmured it , w d e And , hile he paused bewil er d , yet again “ It murmured Rhoecus softer than a breeze . He started and beheld with dizzy eyes What seemed the substance of a happy dream n Stand there before him , spreadi g a warm glow IVithin the green glooms of the shadowy oak . ’ far It seemed a woman s shape , yet too fair

To be a woman , and with eyes too meek

For any that were wont to mate with gods . a h All n ked like a goddess stood she t ere , And like a goddess all too beautiful - 406

o - h n T feel the guilt born eart li ess of shame . “ oe the Rh cus , I am Dryad of this tree

lo w - Thus she began , dropping her toned words

Serene , and full , and clear , as drops of dew And with it I am doomed to live and die ; The r ain and sunshine are my caterers Nor have I other bliss than simple life

Now ask me what thou wilt , that I can give , ” o e And with a thankful j y it shall b thine .

‘

IV . oe h Then Rh cus , with a flutter at the eart , Y et , by the prompting of such beauty , bold , Answered ' W hat is there that can satisfy The endless cravin g of the soul but love ' G ive me thy love , or but the hope of that

“ ’ b e ev erm ore n o t ich must my ature s g al . t Af er a little pause she said again , But with a glimpse of sadness in her tone “ oe s I give it , Rh cus , though a perilou gift

An hour before the sunset meet me here . And straightway therewas nothing he could see

But the green glooms beneath the shadowy oak , And not a sound came to his straining ears But the low trickling rustle of the leaves And f ar away upon an emerald slope ’ The falter of an idle shepherd s pipe .

V . t Now , in hose days of simpleness and faith , Men did not think that happy things were dreams Because they overstepped the narrow bourn Of likelihood , but reverently deemed Nothing too wondrous or too beautiful n To be the guerdon of a dari g heart . oe he So Rh cus made no doubt that was blest , ’ And all alon g unto the city s gate Earth seemed to spring beneath him as he

walked , sk o n The clear , broad ylo ked bluer tha its wont ,

And he could scarce believe he had not wings , Such sunshine seemed to glitter through his veins n Instead of blood , so light he felt and stra ge .

I V .

Y n o h ou g Rh ecus had a fait ful heart enough , in t o o But one that the present dwelt much , , ’ a n c o And , t ki g with blithe wel ome whats e er n t Chance gave of j oy , was wholly bou d in tha Like the contented peasant of a vale , d n Deemed it the worl , and ever looked beyond .

So , haply meeting in the afternoon Some comrades who were playing at the dice

He joined them , and forgot all else beside .

VII .

The dice were rattling at the merriest , o And Rh ecus , who had met but sorry luck ,

Just laughed in triumph at a happy throw , When through the room there hummed a yel low bee

That buzzed about his ear with down - dropped legs - 408

o s i As if to light . And Rh ecus laughed and a d , Feeling how red and flushed he was with loss “ By Venus 'does he take me for a rose '”

off . And brushed him with rough , impatient hand a But still the bee came b ck , and thrice again

Rhoecus did beat him off with growing wrath . Then through the window flew the wounded bee o a And Rh ecus , tr cking him with angry eyes ,

Saw a sharp mountain - peak of Thessaly A am st g the red disk of the setting sun , And instantly the blood sank from his heart

As if its very walls had caved away .

Without a word he turned , and , rushing forth ,

Ran madly through the city and the gate , ’ ’ o er And the plain , which now the wood s long

shade , low sun n By the throw forward broad and dim , ’ Darkened wellnigh unto the city s wall .

VIII . 'uite spent and out of breath he reached the

tree ,

And , listening fearfully , he heard once more “ ” The low voice murmur Rhoecus ' close at hand

Whereat he looked around him , but could see Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the

oak . o ' Then sighed the voice , O Rh ecus nevermore

Shalt thou behold me or by day or night ,

Me , who would fain have blessed thee with a love More ripe and bounteous than ever yet Filled up with nectar any m ortal heart

But thou didst scorn my humble messenger , ’ And sen t st him back to me with bruised wings We spirits only show to gentle eyes

We ever ask an undivided love , And he who scorns the least of Nature ’s works

Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all . r Farewell 'for thou canst neve see me more .

I' .

o Then Rh ecus beat his breast , and groaned aloud ' And cried , Be pitiful forgive me yet h '” This once , and I s all never need it more ’ “ '” t Alas the voice returned , is thou art blind , m Not I un erciful ; I can forgive , ’ But have no skill to heal thy spirit s eyes ; ’ ” Only the soul hath power o er itself . With that again there murmured “ Nevermore '” And Rhoecus after heard no other sound Except the rattling of the oak ’s crisp leaves n Like the long surf upo a distant shore ,

- Raking the sea worn pebbles up and down . ’ The night had gathered round him ' o er the plain The city sparkled with its thousand lights And sounds of revel fell upon his ear

Harshly and like a curse ; above , the sky

With all its bright sublimity of stars ,

Deepened , and on his forehead smote the breeze - 41o B eauty was all around him and delight , B ut from that eve he was alone on earth .

OTA TI ONS ' R OM L O E L 'U W L . ’ i Get but the truth once uttered , and tis l ke

A - star new born that drops into its place , n And which , once circli g in its placid round

Not all the tumult of the earth can shake . Life is a leaf of paper white

‘ ' Whereon eachOn e of us may write w an d t o His ord or two , hen c mes night ; Greatly begin ' Though thou hast ti m e “7 a ' But for line , be that sublime but l o w . Not failure , aim , is crime Be noble 'and the nobleness that lies

In other men , sleeping , but never dead , m Will rise in maj esty to eet thine own . V A n d I honor the man who 1 s wfllin g to sink re te the Half his present pwug for freedom to think , A n d has when he thought , be his cause strong

or weak , ’ to Will risk t other half for the freedom speak , Caring naught for what v enggan ce the mob has I

in store ,

Let that mob be the upper ten thousand or lower .

08 ll. O' I. rams