ir hopes deferred,
Resounding through their garret-room
That noble chanson heard;
And as the night before the day
Their weak misgivings fled away;
And with the burden of the strain
They made their studio ring again--
Courage! courage, mon camarade!

Two poets, who in patience wrought
The glory of an aftertime,--
Lords of an age which knew them not,
Heard rise that lofty rhyme;
And on their hearts it fell, as falls
The sunshine upon prison-walls;
And one caught up the magic strain
And to the other sang again--
Courage! courage, mon camarade!

And unto one, who, tired of breath,
And day and night and name and fame,
Held to his lips a glass of death,
That song a savior came;
Beseeching him from his despair,
As with the passion of a prayer;
And kindling in his heart and brain
The valor of its blest refrain--
Courage! courage, mon camarade!

O thou, with earthly ills beset,
Call to thy lips those words of joy,
And never in thy life forget
The brave song of Savoy!
For those dear words may have the power
To cheer thee in thy darkest hour;
The memory of that loved refrain
Bring gladness to thy heart again!--
Courage! courage, mon camarade!

HENRY AMES BLOOD.

* * * * *

V. DEATH AND BEREAVEMENT.

LIFE.

We are born; we laugh; we weep;
We love; we droop; we die!
Ah! wherefore do we laugh or weep?
Why do we live or die?
Who knows that secret deep?
Alas not I!

Why doth the violet spring
Unseen by human eye?
Why do the radiant seasons bring
Sweet thoughts that quickly fly?
Why do our fond hearts cling
To things that die?

We toil--through pain and wrong;
We fight--and fly;
We love; we lose; and then, ere long,
Stone-dead we lie,
O life! is all thy song
"Endure and--die?"

BRYAN WALLER PROCTER _(Barry Cornwall)._

SOLILOQUY ON DEATH.

FROM "HAMLET," ACT III. SC. I.

HAMLET.--To be, or not to be,--that is the question
Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them?--To die, to sleep;--
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,--'t is a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die,--to sleep;--
To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuff