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TERESA MILANOLLO.

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TERESA MILANOLLO. By the Author of "Plighted Troth." Hushed is the orchestra's harmonious din Save one long—earnest—thrilling note rung on- The pause of Genius ere that it begin its awful mission 1—'l is decreed. Without Or fear or falter, onward sweeps the strain 1 u conscious might. And now it proudly burneth With lofty thoughts that all less high, disdain— And now unto rapt Extasie it turnfth- Now melts to tears, and chastening all of Earth In earthly passion, pensive grows and lowly, Anon serene and calm-the Second Birth Of Genius—reverential the? and Holy!- Thus running, of Mind militant, the race, And in its trials triumphing, until Proved and f und faithful, it doih wing apace Towards the eteinal summit of that Hill Where Song's supreme, and 'mid the ethereal Quires Of prophesying Seraphs who proclaim A Glory to be canoDiwu-explres To instant rise again to tife and Fame! — And who hath rung this strain, and won this crown, Who may it be, the Bard, of whom this lay Is type and voice, and « ho is thus sent down To teach Man how to joy and weep and praj ?— Behold! "l'is even she —the Maiden Child With Italy's gold olive in her cheek And ebon ray in hair and eye the mild Yet not withal less resolute Girl, than meek, Who stands before you, clasping in one hand A little homely instrument laid in her breast, Whilet in the other one, a wizard wand Ruling its chords, from that soft place of rest Draws forth a stream of sweet and noble thought So thrilling, we know not the which it be, Anguish or joy. it hath within us wrought, The Rapture heaves in such lost agony Of tears and sighing—only to surcease W hen that the soaring Theme upborne above Earth's yearnings, swells into a hymn of peace And praise, and piety, and blessed ItfVe And Life Immortal!—Oh the gift, the gift Of such rare Faculty divine Avaunt, Ye sordid Artisans of Sound, that lift No soul, or lap it in Llysium!" Haunt No Hall of Poet's Harmony Your sleight And conjury of hand's all vanity And vexation! Ye've n,) Faith. No, none. The Light Is Darkness in ye! fallen Humanity Needs higher, holier Teachers! Stand aloof— Whilst our young; Prophetess and fatron Saint, Our second St. Cecilia, from the roof Of Poesy's high Heaven descends to paint In revelations lyrical—alone Interpretation meet of things supernal- The glories that encompass that Sky Throne. its majesty, and might, and love and truth Eternal!

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