Page 4 Advertisements Column 1

Colonist, Volume XVII, Issue 1870, 2 February 1875, Page 4

LON GFJ3LK)W'S NEW POEM. j The great literary event of the season has "been Dr. Henry W. Longfellow's £oem of " The Hanging of the Crane," which was read in Boston one evening recently by Mr. Sidney "Woi let, of London. There was a large and intelligent audience assembled. Mr. Woolet was introduced and went on with Mr. Longfellow's poem as follows : — ■HANGING OF THE CRANE. [" Pendre la crernailere," to hang the crane, is the IVench expression for a house-warming, or the first party given in a new house.J I. The lights are out, and are the guests That thronging came with merriments and jests To celebrate the hanging of the crane In the new house—into the night are gone; But still the fire upon the hearth burns on, And I alone remain. O fortunate, O happy day! When a new household finds its place Among the myriad homes of earth. Like a new star just sprung to birth, And rolled on its harmonious way Into the boundless realms of space! So said the guests in speech and song, As in the chimney,.burning bright, We hung the iron crane to-night, And merry was the feast and long. ' ■ 11. And now I sit and muse on what may be, And in my vision see, or seem to see, Through floating vapours interfused with flight Shapes determination, that gleam and fade, As shadows passing into deeper shade, Sink and elude the sight. For two alone, there in the hall, Is spread the table, round and small. Upon the polished silver shine The evening lamps, but more divine The light of love shines over all; Of love that says not mine and thine But ours, for ours is thine and mine. They want no guest to come between Their tender glances, like a screen, And tell them tales of land and sea, And whatsoever may betide The great, forgotten world outside. They want no guests ; they needs must be Each, other's own best company, in. The picture fades: as at a village fair A showman's views dissolve into the air, To reappear transfigured on the screen. So in my fancy this : and now once more In part transfigured, through the open door Appears the self-same Bcene. Seated I see the two again, But not alone; they entertain A little angel unaware, With face as round as is the moon, A royal guest with flaxen hair, Who, throned upon his lofty chair, Drums on the table with his spoon, Then drops it careless on the floor, To grasp at things unseen before. Are these celestial manners ? These The ways that win, the arts that please P Ah, yes; consider well the guest. And whatsoe'er he does eeema best; He ruleth by the right divine Of .helplessness, so lately born In purple chambers of the morn, As sovereign over thee and thine. He speaketh not, and yot there lies A conversation in his eres; The golden silence of the Greek, The gravest "wisdom of tin* wisi*, Not spoken in language, but in looks More legible than printed books, As if be could but would not speak. And now, a monarch absolute, Thy power is put to proof: for lo ! Restless, fathomless, and slow, The nurse comes rustling like the sea, And pushes back thy chair and thee, And so good night to King Canute. IV.

As one who walking in the forest seeß A lovely landsoape through the parted tree?, Then sees it not for boughs that intervene, Or as we see the moon sometimes revealed Through drifting clouds, and then again conoesled, So I beheld the scene. There are two guests afc table now ; The king, deposed, and older grown, No longer occupies the throne— The crown is on his sister's brow; A princess from the Fairy Tales, The very pattern girl of girls, All covered and embowered in curia, Kose-tinted from the Isle of Flowers, And sailing with soft Bilken sails From far-off Dreamland into ours, Above their bowls with rims of blue And looking dreamy with delight; Limpid as planets that emerge Above the ocean's rounded verge Soft shining through the summer night Steadfast they gaze, yet nothing see Beypnd the horizon of their bowls; Nor care they for the world that rolls With all its freight of troubled souls Into the days that are to be. V. Again the toasting boughß shut out the scene, Again the drifting vapors intervene, And the moon's pallid disc is hidden quite ; And now I see the table wider grown As round into water thrown Dilates a ring of light. I Bee the table wider grown, I Bee it garlanded with guests, As if fair Ariadne's crown Out of the sky had fallen down, Maidens within whose tender breasts A thousand restless hopes and fears, Forth reaching to the coming years, Flutter awhile, then quiet lie, Like timid birds that fain would fly, But do not dare to leave their nest; And youths, who in their strength elate Challenge the van and front of fate, Eager as champions to be In the divine knight-errantry Of youth, that travels sea and land Seeking adventures, or pursues Through cities and through solitudes . Frequented by the lyric Muse, • The phantom with the beckoning hand, That still allures and still eludes. O sweet illusions of the brain ! O sudden thrills of fire and frost! The world is bright while ye remain, And dark and dead when ye are lost! Tl.

The meadow brook, that seemeth to etand still, Quickens its current as it nears the mill; And so the stream of Time, that lingereth In level places, and bo dull appears, Buns with a sweeter current as it nears The gloomy mills of Death. And now like the magioian's scroll, That in the owner's keeping shrinks With every wish he speaks or thinks, Till the last wish consumes the whole, , The table dwindles, and again dp r \J. see the two alone remain. She crown of stars is broken in part; ifkjewels, brighter than the day, ifaVe one by one been stolen away To shine in other homes and hearts. One is a wanderer now afar In Ceylon or in Zanzibar, Or sunny regions of Cathay; And one is in the boisterous camp, 'Mid clank of aims and horse's tramp. And battle's terrible array. I sco the patient mother read 4