ngers being capable of moulding
a Colossus. She sippeth her wine out of her glass daintily,--her
capacity being that of a tun of Heidelberg. She goeth mincingly with
those feet of hers,--whose solidity need not fear the black ox's
pressure.

"Softest and largest of thy sex, adieu! By what parting attribute may I
salute thee?--last and best of the Titanesses!--Ogress, fed with milk
instead of blood!--not least, or least handsome, among Oxford's stately
structures!--Oxford, who, in its deadest time of vacation, can never
properly be said to be empty, having thee to fill it!"

* * * * *

MY PALACE.

Wound round and round within his mystic veil
The poet hid a noble truth;
The Soul's Art-Palace then he named the tale
Of those far days in youth.

I sought that palace on its haughty height,
And came to know its starry joys,
Its sudden blackness, and the withering blight
Of all its mortal toys.

At length the soul took lesson from her past,
And found a vale wherein to dwell,
With no Arcadian visions overcast
Or history to tell.

My fellows tended wandering flocks and herds,
Or tilled and nursed their scanty corn;
Little they heeded life that grew to words,
Yet gave no man their scorn.

Like them I wrought my task and took its gain,
That one might serve their homely need,
When skies were dark, and every cloud a pain,
And there were mouths to feed.

Thus labored day by day these unskilled hands,
Whose only master was a willing heart,
Till barren space smiled into garden-lands
Where roses shone apart.

Half faint with toil from morn to set of sun,
One night I watched the shadows creep
With stealthy footstep, when the day was done,
Toward my encastled steep.

The palace gleamed upon my dazzled sight,--
From long estrangement grown more fair:
I sank and dreamed my feet were mounting light
Over each golden stair.

Once more there came the voice of waters low
On cooling breezes perfume-fed:
It seemed I followed a grand leader, slow
Through marble galleries led.

Then sad I wakened in the vale, but found
The stately guide still drew me on:
Her name was Charity; her voice a sound
Of pure compassion.

She said,--"Beside thee every day I stoo