Yet, spite of shame and wrathful tears, Khartoum,
We owe thee certain thanks, for thou hast shown
How still the one a thousand crowds outweighs,--
Still one man's mood sways millions,--one man's doom
Smites nations;--and our burning spirits own
Not sordid these nor unheroic days!



LIBERTY.

[From the French of Louis Honore Fréchette]


A child, I set the thirsting of my mouth
To the gold chalices of loves that craze.
Surely, alas, I have found therein but drouth,
Surely has sorrow darkened o'er my days.
While worldlings chase each other madly round
Their giddy track of frivolous gayety,
Dreamer, my dream earth's utmost longings bound:
One love alone is mine, my love is Liberty.

I have sung them all;--youth's lightsomeness that fleets,
Pure friendship, my most fondly cherished dreams,
Wild blossoms and the winds that steal their sweets,
Wood odors, and the star that whitely gleams.
But our hearts change; the spirit dulls its edge
In the chill contact with reality;