That was the grandest funeral Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun; Noiselessly as the spring time Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Unfold their thousand leaves: So without sound of music Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain's crown The great procession swept. Perchance the bald old eagle On gray Beth-peor's height Out of his rocky eyry Looked on the wondrous sight; Perchance the lion stalking Still shuns that hallowed spot; For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. But, when the warrior dieth, With arms reversed and muffled drums, They show the banners taken; They tell his battles won; And after him lead his masterless steed, While peals the minute-gun. Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest, And give the bard an honored place, In the great minster transept And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings This was the bravest warrior That ever breathed a word; And had he not high honor?— To lie in state while angels wait, And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, Over his bier to wave, And God's own hand, in that lonely land, In that strange grave without a name, Shall break again-O wondrous thought!- And stand, with glory wrapped around, And speak of the strife that won our life O lonely tomb in Moab's land! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, God hath his mysteries of grace, Ways that we cannot tell, He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well. CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER. Ode to the Statue of Moses The Masterpiece of Michael Angelo STATUE! whose giant limbs Old Buanorotti planned, And Genius carved with meditative hand, The best and brightest boast of sculpture's favorite land. What dignity adorns That beard's prodigious sweep! That forehead, awful with mysterious horns Of some uncommon mind the rapt beholder warns. In that proud semblance, well The prophet fresh from converse with the skies; The liberator's name, the guide of Israel. Well might the deep respond When on the Red Sea shore he waved his wand Saved from the yawning gulf and the Egyptian's bond! Fools! in the wilderness Ye raised a calf of gold, Had ye then worshipped what I now behold Your crime had been far less For ye had bent the knee to one of godlike mould! ANONYMOUS. "Speak, Lord, for Thy Servant Heareth" USH'D was the evening hymn, HUS The temple courts were dark; The lamp was burning dim Before the sacred ark: When suddenly a voice Divine Rang through the silence of the shrine. The old man, meek and mild, And what from Eli's sense was seal'd Oh! give me Samuel's ear, The open ear, O Lord. Each whisper of Thy word; Oh! give me Samuel's heart, By day and night, a heart that still Oh! give me Samuel's mind, A sweet unmurmuring faith, To Thee in life and death. JAMES DRUMMOND BORTHWICK. Jephthah's Daughter SINCE our country, our God-oh, my sire! Since thy triumph was bought by thý vow-. And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And of this, O my father! be sure- And the last thought that soothes me below. Though the virgins of Salem lament, When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, LORD BYRON. Jephthah's Daughter "And it became a custom in Israel that the daughters of Israel went from year to year to lament for the daughter of Jephthah, the Gileadite, four days in the year."-Judges xi, THERE is a lonely mountain-top, No blade of grass upon it grows, |