Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1849-02-16
MISCELLANEOUS.

" ~ tlHhS
and him any criticism upon it. The bells
whose chimes rung so unsteady to US on
Christmas norma sound of harmony through
the city's ~din-gave not sweeter tones 10 the
ear than the soul hears in this chime OF
Faith, Love and Beauty, for the merry Christ
mas time. As a story, the book is very sim
pie; as a lesson Of ''pure religion and undef'
led, /" it is rich, and 1t will be a feast TO the
lover Of real harmony. Lowell has written
poetry which contained smore thought and
vigor Of expression, but seldom have we seen
anything from his pen or the pen OF any A.
merican poeI, more spiritually beautiful. IL
floats before our mind fair as a vision from
dream-land, and it whispers Of purity and
love, and acceptable worship, words full Of
persuasive truth.
This is the simple story on which the po-
EN- is reared. Sir Launfal, a naughty Eng
lish knight, resolves In obedience to bis vow,
TO go on a pilgrimage in search Of the Holy
Grail-the cup out Of which Jesus drank at
the last supper. He prepares for his jour
ney; and the night before he is to begin IT.,
he has this vision:
On a beautiful morning in June when
1.-The little birds sang as if it were
The one day Of summer in all the year,
And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees"
he sailed forth from his dark old castle, the
"proudest hall in the North Countree," upon
his holy pilgrimage,
ITO seek in all climes the Holy Grail"
As he passed the drawbridge and through
the outer gate, a leper crouched near it rafs-
ed his hand for an aims with a feeling Of
loaihing, ''he tossed him a piece Of gold in
scorn."
The leper raised not the gold from the dust!
Better to me the poor mans crust,
Better the blessings of the poor,
Though he turn me empty from his door;
That is no aims which the hand can hold;
He gives nothing but worthless gold
Who gives from a sense OF duty;
But he who gives a slender mite.
And gives to that which is out of sight,
That thread of all-sustaining Beauty,
Which runs through all and doth all unite,-
The hand cannot clasp the whole of his aims,
The heart outstreiches its eager palms.
For a God goes with it and makes it store
To the soul that was starving in darkness before"
The scene changes: it ia drear winter,
"iust at the Christmas time" Sir Daunfal,
old, worn and thinly clad, returns from his
vain pilgrimage TO his castle, and finds it
wrested from him and filled by another
He turns from the gate which is barred a.
gains, him, and his thoughts wander over
his journeyings.
ale sees the snake like caravan crawl
Ger the edge of desert, black and small,
Then nearer and nearer, till one by one,
He can count the camels in the sun,
As over the red hot sands they pass
To where in its slender necklace of grass.
The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade
And with its own self like an infant played
And waved its signal OF palms"
There he saw a leper who begged an aims,
and instead Of turning from him with scorn
and disgust, or coldly casting a gift 10 him,
Sir Launfal said
~ behold in thee
An image OF him who died on the tree;
Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns,-
Thou also hasthadt the worlds Bullets and scorns,
And to thy life were not denied
The wounds in the hands, and feet and side:
Mild Mary's son acknowledge me;
Behold, through him l give to thee"
He remembered his former scorn Of the le-
per as he set forth on his pilgrimage, and
"The heart within him was ashes and dust:"
He parted in twain his single crust,
He broke the ice on the streamlets brink,
And gave the leper to eat and drink,
'Twasa mouldy crust OF coarse brown bread
Twas water out offs wooden BOWL
Yet with fine wheaton bread was the leper fed,
And twas red wine he drank with his thisty soul.
As Sir Launfal unused with a downcast face,
A light shone round about the place;
The leper no longer crouched at his side.
But stood before him glori6ed,
Shining and tall aud fair and straight
As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate
Himself the Gate whereby men can
Enter the temple Of God and Man"
The transformed man, addresses him,
"And the voice that was calmer than silence said,
Lo! it is !, be no, afraid!
In many chimes without avail
Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail;
Behold. it is here, this cup which thou
Didst fill at the streamlet for me hut now;
This crust is my body broken for thee,
This water his blood that died on the tree,
The Holy Supper is kept, indeed.
In whatso we share with another's need.
Not that which we give but what we share,
For the gift without the giver is bare;
Who bestows himself with his aims feeds three,
Himself, his hungering neighbor and me-"
Sir Launfal awakes as from a swoon
The Grail in my castle here is found!
Hang my idle armor up on the wall,
Let it be the spiders banquet hall;
He must be fenced with stronger mail
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail"
Thencefonh his castle was a refuge fol
the poor, a shelter to the homeless, warm ey.
er with the light Of love.
The p~reludes to parts first and second are
not the least exquisite portions of the poem
in artistic finish. The description of the win.
ter morning in the second is TO us one OF the
finest sketches with the pen which we have
read for many a day; but we have quoted toe
largely already 10 copy more.-Pa. Freeman
The science of n School Examination