So lives the soul of man. It is the thirst Of his immortal nature; and he rends The rock for secret fountains, and pursues The path of the illimitable wind For mysteries--and this is human pride! There is a gentler element, and man May breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, And drink its living waters till his heart Is pure--and this is human happiness! Its secret and its evidence are writ In the broad book of nature. ’Tis to have Attentive and believing faculties; To go abroad rejoicing in the joy Of beautiful and well created things; To love the voice of waters, and the sheen Of silver fountains leaping to the sea; To thrill with the rich melody of birds, Living their life of music; to be glad In the gay sunshine, reverent in the storm; To see a beauty in the stirring leaf, And find calm thoughts beneath the whispering tree; To see, and hear, and breathe the evidence Of God’s deep wisdom in the natural world! It is to linger on ‘the magic face Of human beauty,’ and from light and shade Alike to draw a lesson; ’tis to love The cadences of voices that are tuned By majesty and purity of thought; To gaze on woman’s beauty, as a star Whose purity and distance make it fair; And in the gush of music to be still, And feel that it has purified the heart! It is to love all virtue for itself, All nature for its breathing evidence; And when the eye hath seen, and when the ear Hath drunk the beautiful harmony of the world, It is to humble the imperfect mind, And lean the broken spirit upon God! Thus would I, at this parting hour, be true To the great moral of a passing world. Thus would I--like a just departing child, Who lingers on the threshold of his home-- Remember the best lesson of the lips Whose accents shall be with us now, no more! It is the gift of sorrow to be pure; And I would press the lesson; that when life Hath half become a weariness, and hope Thirsts for serener waters, go abroad Upon the paths of nature, and when all Its voices whisper, and its silent things Are breathing the deep beauty of the world, Kneel at its simple altar, and the God Who hath the living waters, shall be there! * * * * * NOTES. PAGE 32, LINES 12 and 13. _‘And a soft landscape given me by one_ _Who has a noble nature.’_ The gentleman who gave me the picture of ‘Stirling Castle’ will not be surprised that so pleasant a gift holds a place in my memory. PAGE 33, LINES 9 and 10. _‘one_ _Whose ancestors had been Castilia’s kings.’_ This striking anecdote is related of Ponce de Leon, in, I think, ‘A Visit to Spain,’ by Michael Quin. PAGE 47, LINE 12. _‘The glitter of the steeples on the hills.’_