had heard some reports of his strange adventures in Concord, was unwilling to let him go alone, and Edgar was forced, though against his will, to take Mr. Blake in his company. They reached the hotel late at night, and in the morning Edgar declared his inten- tion of taking a long walk over the country. " Perhaps we shall find some May-flowers, to reward our pains," said he, when he found that Mr. Blake in- sisted upon walking with him. Mr. Blake assured him they would not be out for a week at least. Edgar led the way to the wood he knew so well, and sat down silently upon the familiar stone, while a host of memories, sweet and painful, came thronging on his heart. He began to turn over the ever- green leaves upon the ground, where he had seen Linda for the first time. "Is it here that you come to look for May-flowers?" said Mr. Blake, half contemptuously; "why, they are not in blossom yet in the sun, and it will be a month before they are out in this gloomy wood." Edgar did not answer, but went on turning over the leaves. Mr. Blake went to the other side of the glen, and was looking up the bank. when he heard a quick, joyous cry. He turned and hastened to the spot. There, his face buried in a great cluster of fra- grant white May-flowers, that almost hid his head from sight, lay Edgar Somerton-dead.
THE DREAM OF A RHYMER. II. THE DREAM OF A RHYMER. I. First was shadowed in my dream A maiden, seated by a stream. Bending o'er a book, And she read aloud a song That did softly glide along. In the music of the metre. In the rhythm, sweeter, sweeter. Than the gliding. Shadow-hiding. Currents of the brook. Then within a palace olden. Where, on tapestries, the golden Ages pictured were. In a palace old was seen. One who wore the look of queen, And, behold, it was a page Of the same book did engage TO M. L.. A POETESS. All her fancy. Since her eye Did not from it stir.
III. Next upon a vessel far, Steering toward the Northern star. Thro God's ships of ice. "Mid the sunless solitudes. Where but seldom man intrudes. In my vision I did hear, Thro the mist of many a tear. With loving heed. The captain read From the same book thr.ee. IV. Then beneath a Western wood, Where the trees, for aye, have stooi!. Birth of primal fire. In the wood of eld I heard.- And the solemn music stirred, Of the wind within the pines.— Heard a hunter read the lines Which had been Meet to win Captive queen's desire. Last, wise Time, gray, keen-eyed, came With a stainless wreath of fame From the laurel tree. And he eagerly did look For the writer of the book. Which the hearts had won of all Who in hut or haughty hall Must love and live: Wise Time did give The laurel crown to thee! G. W. PATTERSON.
