Or demon grim, whom age had worn alike;
While here and there a trailing ivy hung,
As if old Time, like artist void of skill
O'er over-finished work had drapery flung.

And all unheeding through the arch I passed,
When lo! another life seemed gathering round,
New
years were added to the past, and forms
As yet unknown stole o'er my spirit's bound,
Yet laughed to me like friends, and when I turned
In bashful wonder from their merry eyes,

I felt that they were friends of days to come
In other countries, and 'neath other skies.

C. G. LELAND.

Arrow.

To dream of finding, or of shooting an arrow, is an omen of death.

HIS bow for action ready bent,
And arrows with a head of stone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the old ideas gone.

Give me my bent bow in my hand,
And a broad arrow I'll let flee;
And where that shaft is taken up,
There shall my grave digged be.

ACHMET SELRIM.

PHILIP FRENeau.

BALLAD OF ROBIN HOOD.

Full many a shaft at random sent,
Finds mark the archer never meant;
And many a word at random spoken

Can soothe or heal a heart that's broken.

SCOTT.

My life is in my hand, and lo!

I grasp and bend it as a bow,

And shoot forth from its trembling string
An arrow that shall be, perchance,

Like the arrow of the Israelite king,

That of the Lord's Deliverance !

LONGFELLOW.

Battle.

To dream of battles, of armies marching in ranks, of weapons, fortifications, and of anything pertaining to wars, is an evil sign to those loving, and to all save soldiers.

ARTEMIDORUS.

O, MY good lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence have I this fortnight been
A banished woman from my Harry's bed? *
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watched,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry Courage-to the field! and thou hast talked
Of sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets;

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;

Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.

WHEN shaws beene sheene and shradds full fayre,

And leaves both large and longe,

It is merry walking in the fayre forrèst

To heare the small birds' song.

The woodwele sang, and wold not cease,
Sitting upon the spraye,

Soe loude, he wakened Robin Hood,

In the greenwood where he lay.

Now by my faye, said jollye Robin,
A dream I had this night;

I dreamt me of two wighty yeomen,
That fast with me can fight.

Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bow mee fro;

Iff I be Robin alive in this lande,

Ile be wroken (revenged) on them two.

Dreames are swift, master, quoth John,
As the wind blowes ore the hill;
For if itt be never so loud this night,
To-morrow it may be still.

PERCY'S RELIQUES.

Beauty.

To dream of beauty (de Venere) is a most favourable omen to those who labour industriously, for it is the nature and spring of all life and activity. And this is a good sign not only to travellers but to those who propose remaining still, for it stirreth up even the indolent and unwilling to activity. So Venus Anadyomene, rising from the ocean, is ominous to sailors, of storm and wreck, yet nevertheless preserves their lives and brings to a fortunate conclusion, labours and negotiations which have seemed hopeless and desperate.

ARTEMIDORUS, Lib. 2, cap. 42.

I SLEPT and dreamed that life was beauty,
I woke and found that life was duty;

Was then my dream a shadowy lie?

Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A noon-day light and truth to thee.

On a pleasant summer day,

In a garden as I lay

ANONYMOUS.

Drowsed with the perfume of a thousand flowers,
Mine eyes enchanted with their rainbow gleaming,
And lulled by ever-dropping fountain showers,
I fell asleep-from sleep I fell to dreaming;
When lo! beside me sat the Dame of Love-

The Queen of whitest fairness clad in light,

But she was stern, and ruffled e'en her dove: "What dost thou here?" she cried-"arise and write!

"Go forth and labour !-put thy armour on!
Do anything!—but something thou must do ;
They lie who say I love a faineant,

And slander Love with libel most untrue.
The brave, thou know'st, alone deserve the fair,
But who are now the brave in every land?
Though Love-in-Idleness be sweet to wear,
I love it best when plucked by labour's hand.

C. G. LELAND.

If, in the warm and passionate hour
When Reason sleeps in Fancy's bower,
If thou hast ever, ever felt

A dream of delicate beauty melt

Into the heart's recess,

Seen by the soul, and seen by the mind,
But indistinct its loveliness,

Adored and not defined: