SLEEPING BEAUTY.

You remember the nursery legend —

We heard in the early days,

Ere we knew of the world's deception

Or walked in its dusty ways,

And dwelt in a land of the fairies

Where the air was golden haze —

Of the maid, o'er whom the Summers

Of youth passed, like a swell

Of melody all unbroken,

Till evil wrought its spell,

And dream-embroidered curtains

Of slumber round her fell.

The wood grew up round her castle,

The centuries o'er it rolled,

Wrapping its slumb'rous turrets

In clinging robes of mould,

And her name became a legend

By Winter fire-sides told.

Till the Prince came over the mountains

In the morning-glow of youth;

The forest sank before him

Like wrong before the truth,

And he passed the dim old portal,

With its warders so uncouth,

Woke with a kiss the Princess,

And broke enchantment's chain,

The sleepy old castle wondered,

In its cobweb-cumbered brain,

At the tide of life and pleasure

That poured through each stony vein.

And so love conquered an evil

Centuries old in might,

Scattering drowsy glamour,

Piercing the murky night,

Leading from thrall and darkness

Beauty, and joy, and light.