like this at Duty's call;
So many are the honours won
For us, we cannot wear them all!

They make the heroic common-place,
And dying thus the natural way;
And yet, our world-wide English race
Feels nobler, for that death, To-day!

It stirs us with a sense of wings
That strive to lift the earthiest soul;
It brings the thoughts that fathom things
To anchor fast where billows roll.

Love was so new, and life so sweet,
But at the call he left the wine,
And sprang full-statured to his feet,
Responsive to the touch divine.

"_ Nay, dear, I cannot see you die.
For me, I have my work to do
Up here. Down to the boat. Good-bye,
God bless you. I shall see it through_."

We read, until the vision dims
And drowns; but, ere the pang be past,
A tide of triumph overbrims
And breaks with light from heaven at last.

Through all the blackness of that night
A glory streams from out the gloom;
His steadfast spirit lifts the light
That shines till Night is overcome.

The sea will do its worst, and life
Be sobbed out in a bubbling breath;
But firmly in the coward strife
There stands a man who has conquered Death!

A soul that masters wind and wave,
And towers above a sinking deck;
A bridge across the gaping grave;
A rainbow rising o'er the wreck.

Others he saved; he saved the name
Unsullied that he gave his wife:
And dying with so pure an aim,
He had no need to save his life!

Lord! how they shame the life we live,
These sailors of our sea-girt isle,
Who cheerily take what Thou mayst give,
And go down with a heavenward smile!

The men who sow their lives to yield
A glorious crop in lives to be:
Who turn to England's harvest-field
The unfruitful furrows of the sea.

With such a breed of men so brave,
The Old Land has not had her day;
But long her strength, with crested wave,
Shall ride the Seas, the proud old way.

THE HAPPIEST LAND.

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

There sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.

The landlord's daughter filled their cu