wonderful vision had fled from his eyes,
From above shone a heavenly light:

19.
And solemn and sweet came a voice from the skies,
"All battles and conflicts are done,
The temple of Knowledge shall open all eyes,
And law, faith, and reason are one!"

When the radiant dawn of the morning broke,
From his glorious dream the librarian woke.

* * * * *

THE LIBRARY.

That place that does contain my books,
My books, the best companions, is to me,
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers;
And sometimes, for variety I confer
With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

* * * * *

The bard of every age and clime,
Of genius fruitful and of soul sublime,
Who from the glowing mint of fancy pours
No spurious metal, fused from common ores,
But gold to matchless purity refined,
And stamped with all the Godhead in his mind.
JUVENAL.

* * * * *

Books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good;
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
WORDSWORTH.

* * * * *

QUAINT LINES ON A BOOK-WORM.

The Bokeworme sitteth in his celle,
He studyethe all alone,
And burnethe oute the oile,
'Till ye midnight hour is gone
Then gethe he downe upon his bedde,
Ne mo watch will he a-keepe,
He layethe his heade on ye pillowe,
And eke he tryes to sleepe.
Then swyfte there cometh a vision grimme,
And greetythe him sleepynge fair,
And straighte he dreameth of grislie dreames,
And dreades fellowne and rayre.
Wherefore, if cravest life to eld
Ne rede longe uppe at night,
But go to bed at Curfew bell
And ryse wythe mornynge's lyte.

* * * * *

BALLADE OF THE BOOK-HUNTER.

In torrid heats of late July,
In March, beneath the bitter _bise_,
He book-hunts while the loungers fly,--
He book-hunts, though December freeze;
In breeches baggy at the knees,
And heedless of the public jeers,
For these,