his wonted strength.

With grateful thanks he left the convent walls,
And once again on death Anselmo calls.

When, lo! his cell was filled with sudden light,
And on the wall he saw an angel write,

(An angel in whose likeness he could trace,
More noble grown, the traveller's form and face),

"Courage, Anselmo, though thy sin be great,
God grants thee life that thou may'st expiate.

"Thy guilty stains shall be washed white again,
By noble service done thy fellow-men.

"His soul draws nearest unto God above,
Who to his brother ministers in love."

Meekly Anselmo rose, and, after prayer,
His soul was lightened of its past despair.

Henceforth he strove, obeying God's high will,
His heaven-appointed mission to fulfil.

And many a soul, oppressed with pain and grief,
Owed to the friar solace and relief.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE CHURCH AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON.

One autumn day, when hedges yet were green,
And thick-branched trees diffused a leafy gloom,
Hard by where Avon rolls its silvery tide,
I stood in silent thought by Shakspeare's tomb.

O happy church, beneath whose marble floor
His ashes lie who so enriched mankind;
The many-sided Shakespeare, rare of soul,
And dowered with an all-embracing mind.

Through the stained windows rays of sunshine fall
In softened glory on the chancel floor;
While I, a pilgrim from across the sea,
stand with bare head in reverential awe.

Churches there are within whose gloomy vaults
Repose the bones of those that once were kings;
Their power has passed, and what remains but clay?
While in his grave our Shakspeare lives and sings.

Kings were his puppets, kingdoms but his stage,--
Faint shadows they without his plastic art,--
He waves his wand, and lo! they live again,
And in his world perform their mimic part.

Born in the purple, his imperial soul
Sits crowned and sceptred in the realms of mind.
Kingdoms may fall, and crumble to decay,
Time but confirms his empire o'er mankind.

MRS. BROWNING'S GRAVE AT FLORENCE.

FLORENCE wears an added grace,
All her earlier honors crowning;
Dante's birthplace, Art's fair home,
Holds the dust of Barrett Browning.

Guardian of the noble dead