Wing them to the climes supernal,
And to angels' loud acclaims?'

Then came answer: 'Lo! I call them,
Ministers of love, I call!'
Then I waited in the silence,
With God waited over all,
Till I knew how He forgetteth
No one worthy, great or small.

For I saw from where the ocean
Drifts its rhythms to the beach,
From where mountain snows eternal
Far toward heaven as stainless reach,
From where gold and russet harvests
Of God's 'whelming bounty teach,

From where all are always freemen,
From where colleges and schools
Free the mind from Old-World trammels,
Unfit men for tyrants' tools,
From where firesides and altars
Govern hearts with golden rules,

Came, as flowers come in spring-time
Dropt from Winter's icy hand,
Came to cheer, to teach, to brighten--
God's commissioned, shining band;
Came with hands and hearts o'erflowing
To renew the Southern land!

And I watched how spirit-anguish
Songs and smiles soon soothed, allayed,
And how soul-wounds touched by kindness,
As by Christ, could heal and fade,
And how darkness fled affrighted
Where these angels wept and prayed.

And my soul went up in praising
To God's ear: 'Yea, Thou dost know,
High and Holy! men are devils,
Earth, like hell, is drowned in woe;
But Thy war-blast, in Thy mercy,
Hath dealt sin a staggering blow!'

THE UNDIVINE COMEDY--A POLISH DRAMA.

Dedicated to Mary.

PART IV.

'Bottomless perdition.'--_Milton._

Fog and cloud! Nothing can be seen from the bastions of the castle of
the Holy Trinity, to the right or to the left, in front or in the rear,
but dense, motionless, snowy mist; a spectral image of that deluge-wrath
which, as it rose to sweep o'er earth, once broke against these stern,
steep cliffs and beetling peaks of rock: no trace is to be seen of the
buried valley, for the ghostly waves of the cold, white sea of foam
shroud it closely in their stifling veils; the glowing face of the
crimson sun shines not as yet upon earth's winding sheet of silent,
clinging, pallid vapor.

The tower of the castle stands upon a bold and naked granite peak. Built
of the strong rock from which it soars by the giant labor of the now
dying Past, it seems during the lapse of centuries to have grown up from
its stony heart, as the human breast grows from the broad back of the
Centaur. A single banner streams above its lofty