HASSAN AND THE ANGEL.

T

HE Calif Hassan, - so the tale is told, In honors opulent and rich in gold, One New Year's Day sat in a palm-tree's shade, And, on a stone that lay beside him, made An inventory, - naming one by one His benefactions; all that he had done Throughout the year; and thus the items ran : "Five bags of gold for mosques in Ispahan; For caravans to Mecca, seven more ; For amulets to pious people, four; Three for the Ramazan; and two to pay The holy dervishes, who thrice a day In prayer besought the safety of my soul; Item, one loaf of bread, a weekly dole To a poor widow with a sickly child." The Calif read the reckoning o'er, and smiled With conscious pleasure at the vast amount, When, lo! a hand sweeps over the account !

With sudden anger, Hassan looked around,
And saw an angel standing on the ground,
With wings of gold, and robe of purest white.
"I am God's messenger, employed to write
Within this book the pious deeds of men;
I have revised thy reckoning, look again!"
So to the man the angel spake aloud,
Then slowly vanished in a rosy cloud.
The Calif, looking, saw upon the stone
The final item standing there alone!

LOOKING out INTO THE NIGHT.

L

OOKING out into the night,
I behold in space afar
Yonder beaming, blazing star;
And I marvel at the might
Of the Giver of the rays,
And I worship as I gaze,
Looking out into the night.

Looking out into the night,

I espy two lovers near,

And their happy words I hear,
While their solemn troth they plight;
And I bless the loving twain,
Half in pleasure, half in pain, -

Looking out into the night.

Looking out into the night,

Lo! - a woman passing by,
Glancing round with anxious eye,
Tearful, fearful of the light;

And I think what might have been
But for treachery and sin, -

Looking out into the night.

Looking out into the night,
I behold a distant sail
Roughly beaten by the gale
Till it vanishes from sight;
And I ponder on the strife
Of our fleeting human life,
Looking out into the night.

Looking out into the night,
I bethink me of the rest
And the rapture of the blest
In the land where all is light;
Sitting on the heavenly shore,
Weeping never, - nevermore
"Looking out into the night! "

I

A SUMMER SCENE.

SAW you, lately, at an hour
To lovers reckoned dear
For tender trysts; and this is what
I chanced to see and hear:

You sat beneath the Summer moon,
A friend on either hand,

And one applauded your discourse,
And one could understand.

You quoted gems of poesy

By mighty masters wrought;

And one remarked the pleasant rhyme, And one, the golden thought.

Your smiles (how equally bestowed!) Upon the list'ners fell;

And one was fain to praise your eyes,

And one, to read them well.

You jested in a merry vein,

And, conscious, played the child;

And one was moved to brave retort,
And one, in silence, smiled.

You spoke of angel-life above
That evermore endures;

And one looked up, with lifted hands,
And one - was kissing yours!

And then you laughed the ringing laugh

That shows a spirit glad;

And one, thereat, was very gay,

And one was something sad.

And did you guess (ah! need I ask?)
While thus they sat with you,
That one was but a light gallant,
And one a lover true ?

HOW IT HAPPENED.

"A

H!

we love each other well, Better far than words can tell,"

Said my charmer, "but in vain
Are my efforts to explain

How it happened! Tell me now,
Dearest, of the why and how !
Since the fact we cannot doubt,
Tell me how it came about."

Well, my darling, I will try
To explain the how and why,
(Speaking for myself - not you;
That, of course, I cannot do.)

Not your brilliant mind alone Could have thus enthralled my own; Not the charm of every grace Beaming from your sunny face ; Not your voice though music be

Less melodious to me;

Not your kisses

sweeter far

Than the drops of Hybla are;
None of these, from each apart,
Could have so enchained my heart;
Nay, not e'en the wondrous whole
Could have fixed my wayward soul;

prevailed,

Had not love - your love
All the rest had surely failed!
There! you have the reason, dear;

Is the explanation clear?

Ah! I own it seems but weak;
Half the why is yet to seek;
Only this I surely know,
Never woman witched me so!
Happy let my charmer be,
Since her eyes in mine may see
Flashes of the hidden fire
(Half devotion, half desire),
And her ears may hear the sighs
That from yearning love arise,
Whispering, in the fondest tone,
"Take me! I am all your own!"