First at one, and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now now one
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire

In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way

Now she meets the coming prey,

Lets it go as fast, and then

Has it in her power again:

Now she works with three or four,

Like an Indian conjurer;

Quick as he in feats of art,

Far beyond in joy of heart.

Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,

Clapping hands with shout and stare,

What would little Tabby care

For the plaudits of the crowd?

Over happy to be proud,

Over wealthy in the treasure

Of her own exceeding pleasure!

*

A PILGRIM.

From THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

John Bunyan.

WHO would true valor see

Let him come hither!

One here will constant be,

There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avow'd intent,

To be a Pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round
With dismal stories,

Do but themselves confound;

His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He'll with a giant fight,
But he will have a right,
To be a Pilgrim.

Hobgoblin, nor foul fiend,
Can daunt his spirit;
He knows he at the end
Shall Life inherit.
Then, fancies, fly away,

He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labor, night and day,
To be a Pilgrim.

THE LITTLE BLACK BOY.

William Blake.

My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh! my soul is white;

White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light.

灣

My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap, and kissed me,

And, pointing to the East, began to say :

"Look on the rising sun, there God does live,

And gives His light, and gives His heat away; And flowers, and trees, and beasts, and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noon-day.

"And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love;

And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

"For when our souls have learned the heat to bear,
The clouds will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
Saying, 'Come out from the grove, my love and care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.""

Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;

And thus I say to little English boy,

"When I from black, and he from white cloud free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,

“I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand, and stroke his silver hair,

And be like him, and he will then love me."

THE TIGER.

William Blake.

TIGER, tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

THE FLY.

OCCASIONED BY A FLY DRINKING OUT OF THE AUTHOR'S CUP.

William Oldys.

Busy, curious, thirsty fly,

Drink with me, and drink as I;
Freely welcome to my cup,

Couldst thou sip, and sip it up.
Make the most of life you may;
Life is short, and wears away!

Both alike are mine and thine,
Hastening quick to their decline;
Thine's a summer; mine's no more,

Though repeated to threescore;

Threescore summers, when they're gone,

Will appear as short as one.

THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.

William Cowper.

THE noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,

When, 'scap'd from literary cares,

I wander'd on his side.

My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
And high in pedigree,