Part 40

SOTHEBY--Constance de Castile.

42. When, like lobster boiled, the morn From black to red begins to turn.

BUTLER--Hudibras.

43. When in mid air, on seraph wing, The paly moon is journeying In stillest paths of stainless blue. Keen, curious stars are peering through Heaven's arch this hour; they dote on her With perfect love, nor can she stir Within her vaulted halls apace, Ere, rushing out with joyous face, These Godkins of the sky Smile as she glides in loveliness, While every heart beats high With passion, and breaks forth to bless Her loftier divinity.

MOTHERWELL.

44. When comes still evening on, and twilight gray Hath in her sober livery all things clad, Silence accompanying.

MILTON--Paradise Lost.

45. When calm the grateful air, and loth to lose Day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling dews; Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; Look up a second time, and one by one You mark them twinkle out, with silvery light, And wonder how they could elude your sight.

WORDSWORTH.

46. When your fire, with dim unequal light, Just glimmering, bids each shadowy image fall Sombrous and strange upon the darkening wall, Ere the clear taper chase the deepening night.

W. L. BOWLES.

47. When the sun's broad orb Seems resting on the burnish'd wave, And lines Of purple gold hang motionless, Above the sinking sphere.

SHELLEY.

48. Morn breaking in the east. When purple clouds Are putting on their gold and violet, To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming.

N. P. WILLIS.

49. When the day In golden slumber sinks, with accent sweet Mild evening comes, to lure the willing feet With her to stray, Where'er the bashful flowers the observant eye may greet.

H. PICKERING.

50. The light of midnight skies When the red meteor rides the cloud.

MISS LANDON.

51. When at noon, High on his throne, the visible lord of light Rides in his fullest blaze, and dashes wide Thick flashes from his wheels

J. G. Percival.

52. Night on the waves, when the moon is on high, Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky, Treading its depths in the power of her might, And turning the clouds as they pass her to light.

J. K. HERVEY.

53. When yonder western throng of clouds Retiring from the sky, So calmly move, so softly glow, They seem, to fancy's eye, Bright creatures of a better sphere, Come down at noon to worship here, And from their sacrifice of love Returning to their courts above.

G. D. PRENTICE.

54. When the moon, her lids unclosing, deigns To smile serenely on the charmed sea, That shines, as if inlaid with lightning chains, From which it hardly struggled to be free.

EPES SARGENT.

55. The high festival of night, When earth is radiant with delight, And fast as weary day retires The heaven unfolds its secret fires, Bright, as when first the firmament Around the new-made world was bent, And infant seraphs pierced the blue, Till rays of heaven came shining through.