A LEGEND OF THE STARS.

The Stars are heaven's ministers;

Right royally they teach

God's glory and omnipotence,

In wondrous lowly speech.

All eloquent with music as

The tremblings of a lyre,

To him that hath an ear to hear

They speak in words of fire.

Not to learned sagas only

Their whisperings come down;

The monarch is not glorified

Because he wears a crown.

The humblest soldier in the camp

Can win the smile of Mars,

And‘ tis the lowliest spirits hold

Communion with the stars.

Thoughts too refined for utterance,

Ethereal as the air,

Crowd through the brain's dim labyrinths,

And leave their impress there;

As far along the gleaming void

Man's tender glances roll,

Wonder usurps the throne of speech,

But vivifies the soul.

Oh, heaven-cradled mysteries,

What sacred paths ye've trod —

Bright, jewelled scintillations from

The chariot-wheels of God!

When in the spirit He rode forth,

With vast creative aim,

These were His footprints left behind,

To magnify His name!

We gazed on the Evening Star,

Mary and I,

As it shone

On its throne

Afar,

In the blue sky;

Shone like a ransomed soul

In the depths of that quiet heaven;

Like a pearly tear,

Trembling with fear

On the pallid cheek of Even.

And I thought of the myriad souls

Gazing with human eyes

On the light of that star,

Shining afar,

In the quiet evening skies;

Some with winged hope,

Clearing the cope

Of heaven as swift as light,

Others, with souls

Blind as the moles,

Sinking in rayless night.

Dreams such as dreamers dream

Flitted before our eyes;

Beautiful visions!—

Angelo's, Titian's,

Had never more gorgeous dyes:

We soared with the angels

Through vistas of glory,

We heard the evangels

Relate the glad story

Of the beautiful star,

Shining afar

In the quiet evening skies.

And we gazed and dreamed,

Till our spirits seemed

Absorbed in the stellar world;

Sorrow was swallowed up,

Drained was the bitter cup

Of earth to the very lees;

And we sailed over seas

Of white vapour that whirled

Through the skies afar,

Angels our charioteers,

Threading the endless spheres,

And to the chorus of angels

Rehearsed the evangels

The Birth of the Evening Star.