Speak gently! He who gave His life To bend man's stubborn will, When elements were fierce with strife, Said to them, "Peace! be still." Speak gently: 't is a little thing Dropped in the heart's deep well; The good, the joy which it may bring, Eternity shall tell. Anonymous. CCII. THE PASSIONS. When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Thronged around her magic cell Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Possessed beyond the Muse's painting; By turns they felt the glowing mind Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined: Till once, 't is said, when all were fired, Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatched her instruments of sound, And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each, for Madness ruled the hour, Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid, And back recoiled, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made. Next Anger rustled, his eyes on fire, In lightnings owned his secret stings; In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woeful measures wan Despair-- Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled, A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch the strain prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She called on Echo still through all the song; And, where her sweetest notes she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--