is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength of which it cannot but grow strong."--_John Service._ "Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,--no more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor, are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond it."--_Hazlitt._ "His is that language of the heart In which the answering heart would speak, Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start, Or the smile light the cheek. "And his that music to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime." --_Fitz-Greene Halleck._ =Other Poems to be Read:= Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven. REFERENCES: Carlyle's Essay on _Robert Burns_; _Burns_ (English Men of Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's _English Poets_. William Cowper. BOADICEA. When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel from her country's gods, Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief. "Princess! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. "Rome shall perish--write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt. "Rome, for empire far renown'd, Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,-- Hark, the Gaul is at her gates! "Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms,{1} shall win the prize; Harmony the path to fame. "Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,{2} Shall a wider world command.