Benevolence, of heaven born,

Bade high an angel-banner wave,— Said to the mourner, "Cease to mourn; I come-I come to save!"

And then arose a noble band,

O God, the willing-hearted bless, Who, moved by mercy, took their stand, To turn aside distress!

Unto the valley rent and torn,

That wept in weariness and pain, Benevolence hath blessing borne ;The valley smiles again.

66

THE YOUNG UNKNOWN.

"ABNER, who may this bold one be, Hath done his deed so well?" "As thy soul liveth," answer'd he, 'O king, I cannot tell.”

46

But ask thou who the stripling is,
Who well his work hath done;
When had we victory like this?
Of whom is he the son?"

66

A stranger is he then to thee,
O king, and wouldst reward
Him, who the gates of victory
Hath gallantly unbarr'd?

Hast thou forgot the harper's name,
To thee not long since led?

And how, when he with music came,

Thy evil spirit fled ?

And sayst thou," Abner, who is he?"
Him thou shouldst know so well!
And doth he answer make to thee,
"O king, I cannot tell ?"

Unto his venerable sire,

Didst thou not send and say,

Let David and his life-toned lyre
Remain with me alway!"

Then wherefore left the youth thy home,
Whose harp thy home could bless?
To wander, where the wild beasts roam,
Out in the wilderness?

And now thou sayst "Whose son is this?"
It surely is not well,

That thy chief captain's answer is,

"O king, I cannot tell."

POEMS, TALES, AND SONGS.

Hast thou forgotten him in truth?
Him and his aged sire?

"Whose son, O Abner, is this youth,"

Dost seriously enquire?

Will he not, now remember'd be ?

And favour'd like the great,

Behold the star of victory

Shed fortune on his fate?

Saw not the king the giant proud—
The mighty man of Gath—
Approaching like a thundercloud,
Charged with electric wrath ?

Heard not the king the word of pride—
The voice of dark disdain,

That Israel impiously defied,
With scorn across the plain?

Felt not the king the cold of fear,
That darkened day by day?
And long'd he not for one to clear
The terror from the way?

And has he now, who kept the fold,

The gallant shepherd boy, Destroyed the boastful hero bold,

Who meant but to destroy?

121

King!-is thy vision then so dim,—

Can it now truly be,

That thou dost not remember him,
Who thus remembers thee?

'Abner," thou sayst, "whose son is this?" O it is far from well; Not well that Abner's answer is,

"O king, I cannot tell."

But not far distant now the day,
When he, the young unknown,
Will take his place, thy sceptre sway,
And better grace the throne.

THE SUMMER RAIN.

WHEN the rain in torrents gushing,
Sweeps the city in its rushing,
Drenches summer's rosy blushing,—
Is the visitation vain ?

Surely no! The streets are cleaner;
Meadow, mount, and forest, greener,
And the blue above serener,

For the summer rain.

Do the clouds in dizzy dashes,
Quench the thirst of dust and ashes,
By the flickering of flashes,

And the solemn thunder strain?
Does a hush come over laughter
From the shake of roof and rafter?
Yet how better all things after,—
Better for the rain!

O, in rainy days of trial,

When our wishes meet denial,

Must we hang the harp and viol

On the willow, and complain?

Are not sorrows, intervening,

Though we bear their burden, leaning,— Much more blessed in their meaning

Than the summer rain?

A SEASIDE SONG.

AWAY, away,-by road or rail,-
By road, or rail, or river;

O, light of mighty ocean-hail!
The beautiful for ever!

The

years that changed the cheerful pile Of rock, to ruin hoary,

Have left unchanged thy cheerful smile—

Undimm'd thy youth of glory!