sage,
None, none received the glorious light, the strange Promethean
spark
That Heaven vouchsafed thy spotless maid, immortal Joan of Arc!




THE FOUR WISHES.


"Father!" a youthful hero said, bending his lofty brow
"On the world wide I must go forth--then bless me, bless me, now!
And, ere I shall return oh say, what goal must I have won--
What is the aim, the prize, that most thou wishest for thy son?"

Proudly the father gazed upon his bearing brave and high,
The dauntless spirit flashing forth from his dark brilliant eye:
"My son, thou art the eldest hope of a proud honored name,
Then, let thy guiding star through life--thy chief pursuit--be
fame!"

"'Tis well! thou'st chosen, father, well--it is a glorious part!"
And the youth's glance told the wish chimed well with that brave
ardent heart.
"Now, brother, thou'lt have none to share thy sports till I
return,--
Say, what shall be the glitt'ring prize that I afar must earn?"

"The world," said the laughing boy, "on heroes poor looks cold,