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Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;
Song of the Stars.
HEN the radiant morn of creation broke,
And the empty realms of darkness and
Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath,
In the joy of youth as they darted away,
Through the widening wastes of space to play,
And this was the song the bright ones sang :
Away, away, through the wide, wide sky-
For the source of glory uncovers his face,
SONG OF THE STARS.
Lo, yonder the living splendours play;
Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar,
How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass!
How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass!
And the path of the gentle winds is seen,
When the small waves dance, and the young woods lean.
And see where the brighter day-beams pour,
How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower!
Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres!
Glide on in the glory and gladness sent
The boundless visible smile of Him,
To the veil of whose brow our lamps are dim.
[WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, one of the most popular of American poets, is chiefly known in England by many beautiful little pieces, among which may be mentioned "The Indian Maid's Lament," "Thanatopsis," "The Evening Wind," "The Death of the Flowers," and "The Gladness of Nature." His longer poems are less pleasing.]
ET Erin remember the days of old,
Ere her faithless sons betray'd her;
[THOMAS MOORE, the national poet of Ireland, was born in Dublin, in 1779. His poetical activity extended over a period of fifty years-from 1792, when he was a contributor to a Dublin magazine, to 1842, when he revised a collected edition of his poems. His "Lalla Rookh" has been translated, not only into almost every European language, but actually into Persian. Moore lived till 1852, in the enjoyment of a liberal pension.]
When her kings, with standard of green unfurl'd,
Ere the emerald gem of the western world
On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays,
He sees the round towers of other days
Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,
[WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, in 1770, and died at Rydal Mount, in the Lake district, on the 23rd of April, 1850, in the 80th year of his age. His long and blameless life was passed chiefly among the glorious scenes of Nature he described so well; for in the