"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; never heard the 'Here am I'; And I thought, God will not pity; will not turn on me His eye." Then the grave Elias answered, "God said, 'Rise, Elias, go; Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe. "Tell him that his very longing is itself an answering cry; That his prayer, "Come, gracious Allah!" is my answer, "Here am I."" Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled; And in every "O my Father!" slumbers deep a "Here, my child!" DSCHELADEDDIN Translation by Dr. James Freeman Clarke 181 OPPORTUNITY This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:- A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords ner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel- EDWARD ROWLAND SILL 182 A TURKISH LEGEND A certain pasha, dead five thousand years, And had this sentence on the city's gate So these four words above the city's noise And evermore from the high barbican, Lost is that city's glory. Every gust Lifts, with crisp leaves, the unknown pasha's dust, And all is ruin, save one wrinkled gate Whereon is written, "Only God is great." THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 183 NOW Rise! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on; The others have buckled their armor Rise from your dreams of the future, Of gaining some hard-fought field, Of storming some air fortress, Of bidding some giant yield; Your future has deeds of glory, Of honor God grant it may! But your arm will never be stronger, Or the need so great as to-day. Rise! if the past detains you, Her sunshine and storms forget; No claims so unworthy to hold you As those of vain regret; Sad or bright, she is lifeless forever,- Rise! for the day is passing! The low sound that you scarcely hear Stay not to sharpen your weapons, When from dreams of a coming battle, ADELAIDE ANN PROCTOR 184 RANSOM All men must give some hostage unto Fate On whom kind Death all tenderly doth wait To take his treasure. Larger swells the fee He counts to Fortune from whom Love doth flee, Or change unto the scowling brows of Hate. More sad, alas! his deeply mournful lot Whose hand the clasp of Friendship hath forgot; But costliest price of all the soul must pay, Which for some lure of earthly power or pride Hath cast its heritage of Heaven aside, And for such gaud hath given itself away. MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE 185 A NAME IN THE SAND Alone I walked the ocean strand, And so, methought, 'twill shortly be Will sweep across the place Where I have trod the sandy shore And yet, with Him who counts the sands, I know a lasting record stands Inscribed against my name; Of all this mortal part has wrought, HANNAH FLAGG GOULD |