Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

THE ATTEMPT
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summits flooded with the softening radiance, their recesses still black and full of
mystery, their dark shadows thrown down upon illumined lake,—here, its beauty must
he felt to he understood. But we must say, good night to it all. Our boat touched
the shore, and our steps were swift over the now lighted pathway.
We inquired next morning for the health of our last night’s victims, and were
told that, after extraction of the oil they contained, they had been shipped off to
London, to he made into most delectable pies. We could only wish the Londoners
joy of their feast; and, with all due respect for their contempt of our Scotch kail and
haggis, heartily congratulate ourselves that we, at least, had never eaten eels.
M. L.
of
The town of Plcurs, buried by the falling of a mountain.
City of Tears ! the solemn night hath hound thee,
In her dream-fraught embrace;
But through the mantle she hath folded round thee,
We can a deeper, darker shadow trace;
A long, long night, which no glad morn shall chase
Back to its sad and silent dwelling-place.
The golden day reluctantly hath parted
From thy vine-clasped walls,
Bearing its glad light from the sunny-hearted,
And like a cloud, dew-laden, slumber falls,
With its bright dreams, on the young heart it calls,
And with a spell of peace the weary soul enthrals.
Stilling the joyous feet that trod thy dances,
The graceful forms that seemed
Like fabled beauties of the old romances,
Wood nymphs, of which some ancient poet dreamed,
Threading the mazes of the forest wide,
While from each flower-wreathed brow the sunlight died.