And, even when she turned, the curse Had fallen, and her future lord Was drowned in passing through the ford Or killed in falling from his horse. O, what to her shall be the end? And what to me remains of good? To her, perpetual maidenhood, And unto me, no second friend. The ringing of the Christmas bells prompts a grand poem, in which the poet rises out of his dirges into a rapturous prophecy of the “good time coming.” It is altogether the best of many good lyrics on the same general theme: Ring out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. After these extracts we hardly need to commend the volume to our readers as worthy of the genius of Tennyson. It will not only give sober delight on its first perusal, but it contains treasures of thought and fancy which a frequent recurrence to its pages will alone reveal. * * * * * _Chronicles and Characters of the Stock Exchange. By John Francis. Boston: Crosby & Nichols. 1 vol. 8vo._