So spake the wise old warrior;
    And all about him cried,
  “Paulinus’ God hath conquered! 
    And he shall be our guide:—­
  For he makes life worth living
    Who brings this message plain,
  When our brief days are over,
    That we shall live again.”

ANONYMOUS.

* * * * *

THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.

        Could we but know
  The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel,
    Where lie those happier hills and meadows low;
  Ah! if beyond the spirit’s inmost cavil
    Aught of that country could we surely know,
        Who would not go?

        Might we but hear
  The hovering angels’ high imagined chorus,
    Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear
  One radiant vista of the realm before us,—­
    With one rapt moment given to see and hear,
        Ah, who would fear?

        Were we quite sure
  To find the peerless friend who left us lonely,
    Or there, by some celestial stream as pure,
  To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,—­
    This weary mortal coil, were we quite sure,
        Who would endure?

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

* * * * *

SONG OF THE SILENT LAND.

“Das stille Land.”

Into the Silent Land! 
Ah, who shall lead us thither? 
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. 
Who leads us with a gentle hand
Thither, oh, thither,
Into the Silent Land?

Into the Silent Land! 
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all perfection!  Tender morning-visions
Of beauteous souls!  The future’s pledge and band! 
Who in life’s battle firm doth stand
Shall bear hope’s tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land!

O Land!  O Land! 
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our fate allotted
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great departed,
Into the Silent Land!

JOHANN GAUDENZ VON SALIS.

Translation of H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

* * * * *

THE OTHER WORLD.

  It lies around us like a cloud,—­
    A world we do not see;
  Yet the sweet closing of an eye
    May bring us there to be.

  Its gentle breezes fan our cheek;
    Amid our worldly cares
  Its gentle voices whisper love,
    And mingle with our prayers.

  Sweet hearts around us throb and beat,
    Sweet helping hands are stirred,
  And palpitates the veil between
    With breathings almost heard.

  The silence—­awful, sweet, and calm—­
    They have no power to break;
  For mortal words are not for them
    To utter or partake.

  So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide,
    So near to press they seem,—­
  They seem to lull us to our rest,
    And melt into our dream.