NOT IN VAIN.

LET me not deem that I was made in vain,
Or that my being was an accident

Which Fate, in working its sublime intent,
Not wished to be, to hinder would not deign.
Each drop uncounted in a storm of rain
Hath its own mission, and is duly sent
To its own leaf or blade, not idly spent
'Mid myriad dimples on the shipless main.
The very shadow of an insect's wing,
For which the violet cared not while it stayed,
Yet felt the lighter for its vanishing,
Proved that the sun was shining by its shade.
Then can a drop of the eternal spring,
Shadow of living lights, in vain be made?

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

ALL APPOINTED.

HOU camest not to thy place by accident,

THOU

It is the very place God meant for thee;

And shouldst thou there small scope for action see,

Do not for this give room to discontent;
Nor let the time thou owest to God be spent

In idly dreaming how thou mightest be

In what concerns thy spiritual life, more free
From outward hindrance or impediment:

For presently this hindrance thou shalt find
That without which all goodness were a task
So slight, that Virtue never could grow strong :
And wouldst thou do one duty to His mind,
The Imposer's-over-burdened thou shalt ask,
And own thy need of grace to help, ere long.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

HOW soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth
That I to manhood am arrived so near;
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
Than some more timely-happy spirits indu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even,

To that same lot, however mean or high,

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven; All is, if I have grace to use it so,

As ever in my great task-Master's eye.

JOHN MILTON.

TO MR. CYRIACK SKINNER.

"YRIACK, this three-years-day these eyes, though

CYRIAG

clear,

To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear

Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In Liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain

mask,

Content, though blind, had I no better guide.

JOHN MILTON.

MIL

TILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee; she is a fen

Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1802.

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR.

HO is the happy warrior? Who is he

WHO

That every man in arms should wish to be? - It is the generous spirit who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought; Whose high endeavors are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright; Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn ; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with pain And fear and bloodshed miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain; In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature's highest dower: Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives; By objects which might force the soul to abate Her feeling rendered more compassionate; Is placable, because occasions rise

So often that demand such sacrifice;

More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure
As more exposed to suffering and distress ;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
- 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;

Whence, in a state where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He fixes good on good alone, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows :

Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means, and there will stand
On honorable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire ;
Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth or honors, or for worldly state;

Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all;

Whose powers shed round him, in the common strife Or mild concerns of ordinary life,

A constant influence, a peculiar grace;

But who, if he be called upon to face

Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
Great issues, good or bad for humankind,
Is happy as a lover; and attired

With sudden brightness, like a man inspired;
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,

Come when it will, is equal to the need:

- He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence,