O WELL for the fortunate soul Which Music’s wings unfold, Stealing away the memory Of sorrows new and old! Yet happier he whose inward sight, Stayed on his subtle thought, Shuts his sense on toys of time, To vacant bosoms brought; But best befriended of the God He who, in evil times, Warned by an inward voice, Heeds not the darkness and the dread, Biding by his rule and choice, Telling only the fiery thread, Leading over heroic ground Walled with immortal terror round, To the aim which him allures, And the sweet heaven his deed secures. Peril around all else appalling, Cannon in front and leaden rain, Him duty through the clarion calling To the van called not in vain. Stainless soldier on the walls, Knowing this,――and knows no more,―― Whoever fights, whoever falls, Justice conquers evermore, Justice after as before;―― And he who battles on her side, God, though he were ten times slain, Crowns him victor glorified, Victor over death and pain Forever: but his erring foe, Self-assured that he prevails, Looks from his victim lying low, And sees aloft the red right arm Redress the eternal scales. He, the poor for whom angels foil, Blind with pride and fooled by hate, Writhes within the dragon coil, Reserved to a speechless fate. ♦ ‘Voluntaires’ replaced with ‘Voluntaries’ * * * * * MOUNTAIN AND SQUIRREL. THE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter “Little Prig.” Bun replied: “You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I’m not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I’ll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut.” * * * * * THE SNOW STORM.