'And to me death had been glorious, If those burning words, victorious, Had at last surged o'er their prison, bearing my departing soul! Gladly were my heart's blood given, If those bonds I might have riven; If, with every crimson lifedrop that from out my full heart stole, I might hear that swelling chorus upward in its glory roll. 'Sad and low my heart is beating! Each pulsation still repeating 'All in vain those eager longings, all in vain that burning prayer. See the breezes, 'mid the bowers, Sigh above the fragrant flowers, And from out those drooping roses, their heart-folded sweetness bear-- But no heaven-sent wind shall whisper thy soul-breathings to the air.' 'But upon my darkened vision Comes a gleam of light Elysian; And a seraph voice breathes softly--'Answered yet shall be that prayer! For the spirit crushed and broken By those burning words unspoken, Soon shall hear them swelling, floating far upon the heavenly air, And its deepest inmost visions shall have perfect utterance there!'' WILLIAM LILLY, ASTROLOGER. A cunning man, hight Sidrophel, That deals in destiny's dark counsels, And sage opinions of the moon sells, To whom all people, far and near, On deep importances repair. * * * * * Do not our great reformers use This Sidrophel to forebode news? To write of victories next year, And castles taken yet i' the air? Of battles fought at sea, and ships Sunk two years hence--the great eclipse? A total overthrow given the king In Cornwall, horse and foot, next spring?'