POETRY.

EURYDICE.

STILL lives on earth the weird Hellenic myth, How Orpheus sought the dwellings of the dead,

And moved to ruth the stony kings of Hell, And won the freedom of Eurydice.

Then through long labyrinthine ways of gloom,

Walking as in a dream, he led her back, Up towards the world of life ;- and when he trod The very threshold of the gates of day,

When light from heaven was dancing in his eye,

And airs from home were blowing on his cheek,.

And earthly sounds made music in his ear, Since earth was void without Eurydice, Nor joy was in the light of that great dawn Except it broke upon Eurydice, He turned to see the day on that loved face, And saw her snatched again to endless night.

0 myth, far echoing through the after-time, Unchanging burden of the changing tale Of many-sorrowed, vainly-labouring men !

0 name of ill-starred omen for the ship That twelve months since set sail from English shores, Manned with a crew of lusty English lads, To harden into seamen for the Fleet !

A year they voyaged about in distant climes ; 'Neath burning skies, by many bowered-shores, They wandered onward, touching here and there, Seeing strange forms of beast and bird and plant.

They threaded mazy straits, 'mid coral isles, They rocked through idle days, on sultry seas, Or, labouring with reefed sail and straining spars, Pierced to the still heart of the hurricane.

Home-bound at length, o'er many a moving leagues.

She kept a steadfast course 'neath changing skies, Till, one dim dawn in March, they hailed with joy The sullen end of England. Further on, They touched, and felt the grasp of English hands ;.

They coasted merrily by English shores, And all the air seemed redolent of home, And breezes rife with memories and hopes.

The voyage was almost over, and all hands Prepared for shore one Sunday afternoon.

Presents for sweetheart, wife, and babe were packed, With homely keepsakes, treasured through the cruise The goodly ship pressed eager towards her haven, The anchor cleared to drop, the number bent Upon the signal-halliards, and each sail Stretched to the full upon the bending spars, Naught reeking of the mighty, viewless foe, Swift stealing on her, hidden by the hills.

Just as she left the treacherous headland's lee The squall came down and struck her on the beam,—

It struck her in her beauty and her pride,

It struck her in the glory of her way, And all her freight of life and joy and hope Were swept by that fierce blow from out the world.

Three masts, with rended sail and drifting cord, That rock and moan with moaning wind and wave, The murmur of the breeze upon the deep, The murmur of the deep upon the shore, The plash of broken waves, the sea-bird's shriek,.

Prolong the legend of Eurydice.