creeks. Zebulun and Naphtali were a people that jeoparded their lives unto the death in the high places of the field. The kings came and fought; then fought the kings of Canaan in Taanach by the waters of Megiddo; they took no gain of money. They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against Sisera. The river of Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon. O my soul, thou hast trodden down strength. Then were the horsehoofs broken by the means of the prancings, the prancings of their mighty ones. Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty.

Blessed above women shall Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite be; blessed shall she be above women in the tent. He asked water, and she gave him milk; she brought forth butter in a lordly dish. She put her hand to the nail, and her right hand to the workmen's hammer; and with the hammer she smote Sisera, she smote off his head, when she had pierced and stricken through his temples. At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down: at her feet he bowed, he fell: where he bowed, there he fell down dead.

The mother of Sisera looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots? Her wise ladies answered her, yea, she returned answer to herself, Have they not sped? have they not divided

the prey; to every man a damsel or two; to Sisera a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework, of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil?

So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord: but let them that love him be as the sun when he goeth forth in his might.-And the land had rest forty years.

INCIDENT AT BRUGES.

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

QN Bruges town is many a street
Whence busy life hath fled;
Where, without hurry, noiseless feet
The grass-grown pavement tread.
There heard we, halting in the shade
Flung from a convent-tower,

A harp that tuneful prelude made
To a voice of thrilling power.

The measure, simple truth to tell,
Was fit for some gay throng;
Though from the same grim turret fell

The shadow and the song.

When silent were both voice and chords,
The strain seemed doubly dear,,

Yet sad as sweet,for English words

Had fallen upon the ear.

It was a breezy hour of eve;
And pinnacle and spire

Quivered and seemed almost to heave,
Clothed with innocuous fire;

But, where we stood, the setting sun Showed little of his state;

And, if the glory reached the Nun, 'Twas through an iron grate.

Not always is the heart unwise,
Nor pity idly born,

If even a passing stranger sighs
For them who do not mourn.
Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,
Captive, whoe'er thou be!

Oh! what is beauty, what is love,
And opening life to thee?

Such feeling pressed upon my soul,
A feeling sanctified

By one soft trickling tear that stole
From the Maiden at my side;
Less tribute could she pay than this,
Borne gaily o'er the sea,

Fresh from the beauty and the bliss
Of English Liberty?

MONK FELIX.

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

NE morning, all alone,

Out of his convent of gray stone,

Into the forest older, darker, grayer,
His lips moving as if in prayer,
His head sunken upon his breast
As in a dream of rest,

Walked the Monk Felix. All about,

The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,
Filling the summer air;

And within the woodlands as he trod,

The twilight was like the Truce of God
With worldly woe and care;

Under him lay the golden moss;

And above him the boughs of hemlock-trees
Waved, and made the sign of the cross,

And whispered their Benedicites;

And from the ground

Rose an odor sweet and fragrant

Of the wild-flowers and the vagrant

Vines that wandered,

Seeking the sunshine, round and round.
These he heeded not, but pondered

On the volume in his hand,
A volume of Saint-Augustine,
Wherein he read of the unseen
Splendors of God's great town
In the unknown land,

And, with his eyes cast down
In humility, he said:

"I believe, O God,

What herein I have read,

But, alas! I do not understand !”

And lo! he heard

The sudden singing of a bird,

A snow-white bird, that from a cloud

Dropped down,

And among the branches brown

Sat singing

So sweet, and clear, and loud,

It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing.

And the Monk Felix closed his book,

And long, long,

With rapturous look,

He listened to the song,

And hardly breathed or stirred,

Until he saw, as in a vision,

The land Elysian,

And in the heavenly city heard

Angelic feet

Fall on the golden flagging of the street.