GENIUS SLUMBERING. He will not sleep forever, but will rise Fresh to more daring labors; now, even now, As the close shrouding mist of morning flies, The gathered slumber leaves his lifted brow; From his half-opened eye, in fuller beams, His wakened spirit streams. Yes, he will break his sleep; the spell is gone; Keen as the famished eagle darts her wing; He rushes forth to conquer: shall they take- way, When he forgot the contest-shall they take, 87 Now he renews the race, the victor's bay; Still let them strive-when he collects his might, He will assert his right. The spirit cannot always sleep in dust, Whose essence is ethereal; they may try To darken and degrade it; it may rust Dimly awhile, but cannot wholly die; And, when it wakens, it will send its fire Intenser forth and higher. 88 GENIUS WAKING. GENIUS WAKING. BY J. G. PERCIVAL. SLUMBER'S heavy chain hath bound thee- Feebler wings are gathering round thee- Can no power, no spell, recall thee From inglorious dreams? O, could glory so appal thee,. With his burning beams! Thine was once the highest pinion In the midway air; With a proud and sure dominion, Thou didst upward bear. Like the herald, winged with lightning, Where the pillared props of heaven Where no darkling clouds are driven, GENIUS WAKING. O, what rare and heavenly brightness As a cascade's foamy whiteness Wheeling through the shadowy ocean, Like a shape of light, With serene and placid motion, From that cloudless region stooping, Up again undaunted soaring, Thou didst pierce the cloud, When the warring winds were roaring Fearfully and loud. Where is now that restless longing After higher things? Come they not, like visions, thronging On their airy wings? Why should not their glow enchant thee Upward to their bliss? Surely danger cannot daunt thee From a heaven like this. But thou slumberest; faint and quivering Hangs thy ruffled wing; Like a dove in winter shivering, Or a feebler thing. 89 90 GENIUS WAKING. Where is now thy might and motion, Where is now thy heart's devotion? Hark! his rustling plumage gathers Closer to his side, Close, as when the storm-bird weathers Ocean's hurrying tide. Now his nodding beak is steady Wide his burning eye- And his aim-how high! Now he curves his neck, and proudly Hark! his wings-they thunder loudly, Glorious bird, thy dream has left thee Thou hast reached thy heaven- With a bold, a fearless pinion, On thy starry road, None, to fame's supreme dominion, WHITE ROSES 91 WHITE ROSES. BY LOUISA P. SMITH. THEY were gathered for a bridal! From their fair and fairy sisters They were borne, without a sigh, For one remembered evening To blossom and to die. They were gathered for a bridal! And fastened in a wreath; Than the heart that lay beneath; They were gathered for a bridal! Where a thousand torches glistened, When the holy words were spoken, And the false and faithless listened And answered to the vow Which another heart had taken |