THE BATH OF THE STREAMS.

Down unto the ocean, Trembling with emotion, Panting at the notion, See the rivers run— In the golden weather, Tripping o'er the heather, Laughing all together— Madcaps every one.

Like a troop of girls In their loosen'd curls, See, the concourse whirls Onward wild with glee; List their tuneful tattle, Hear their pretty prattle, How they'll love to battle With the assailing sea.

See, the winds pursue them, See, the willows woo them See, the lakelets view them Wistfully afar, With a wistful wonder Down the green slopes under, Wishing, too, to thunder O'er their prison bar.

Wishing, too, to wander By the sea-waves yonder, There awhile to squander All their silvery stores, There awhile forgetting All their vain regretting When their foam went fretting Round the rippling shores.

Round the rocky region, Whence their prison'd legion, Oft and oft besieging, Vainly sought to break, Vainly sought to throw them O'er the vales below them, Through the clefts that show them Paths they dare not take.

But the swift streams speed them In the might of freedom, Down the paths that lead them Joyously along. Blinding green recesses With their floating tresses, Charming wildernesses With their murmuring song.

Now the streams are gliding With a sweet abiding— Now the streams are hiding 'Mid the whispering reeds— Now the streams outglancing With a shy advancing Naiad-like go dancing Down the golden meads.

Down the golden meadows, Chasing their own shadows— Down the golden meadows, Playing as they run: Playing with the sedges, By the water's edges, Leaping o'er the ledges, Glist'ning in the sun:

Streams and streamlets blending, Each on each attending, All together wending, Seek the silver sands; Like the sisters holding With a fond enfolding— Like to sisters holding One another's hands.

Now with foreheads blushing With a rapturous flushing— Now the streams are rushing In among the waves. Now in shy confusion, With a pale suffusion, Seek the wild seclusion Of sequestered caves.

All the summer hours Hiding in the bowers, Scattering silver showers Out upon the strand; O'er the pebbles crashing, Through the ripples splashing, Liquid pearl-wreaths dashing From each other's hand.

By yon mossy boulder, See an ivory shoulder, Dazzling the beholder, Rises o'er the blue; But a moment's thinking, Sends the Naiad sinking, With a modest shrinking, From the gazer's view.

Now the wave compresses All their golden tresses— Now their sea-green dresses Float them o'er the tide; Now with elf-locks dripping From the brine they're sipping, With a fairy tripping, Down the green waves glide.

Some that scarce have tarried By the shore are carried Sea-ward to be married To the glad gods there: Triton's horn is playing, Neptune's steeds are neighing, Restless with delaying For a bride so fair.

See at first the river How its pale lips quiver, How its white waves shiver With a fond unrest; List how low it sigheth, See how swift it flieth, Till at length it lieth On the ocean's breast.

Such is Youth's admiring, Such is Love's desiring, Such is Hope's aspiring For the higher goal; Such is man's condition Till in heaven's fruition Ends the mystic mission Of the eternal soul.