The longer life, the more offence; The more offence, the greater pain; The greater pain, the less defence; The less defence, the lesser gain— The loss of gain long ill doth try, Wherefore, come, death, and let me die. The shorter life, less count I find; The less account, the sooner made; The count soon made, the merrier mind; The merrier mind doth thought invade— Short life, in truth, this thing doth try, Wherefore, come, death, and let me die. Come, gentle death, the ebb of care; The ebb of care the flood of life; The flood of life, the joyful fare; The joyful fare, the end of strife— The end of strife that thing wish I, Wherefore, come, death and let me die. TRUTH. Nerve thy soul with doctrines noble, Noble in the walks of Time, Time that leads to an eternal, An eternal life sublime; Life sublime in moral beauty, Beauty that shall ever be, Ever be to lure thee onward, Onward to the fountain free; Free to every earnest seeker, Seeker at the Fount of Youth, Youth exultant in its beauty, Beauty found in the quest of Truth. TRYING SKYING. Long I looked into the sky, Sky aglow with gleaming stars, Stars that stream their courses high, High and grand, those golden cars, Cars that ever keep their track, Track untraced by human ray, Ray that zones the zodiac, Zodiac with milky-way, Milky-way where worlds are sown, Sown like sands along the sea, Sea whose tide and tone e’er own, Own a feeling to be free, Free to leave its lowly place, Place to prove with yonder spheres, Spheres that trace athrough all space, Space and years—unspoken years. A RINGING SONG. The following gem is from an old play of Shakspeare’s time, called _The True Trojans_:—