IN THE HARBOR: ULTIMA THULE - PART 11 - 1882 - CONTENTS . POEMS . CONTENTS . TRANSLATIONS . PAGX PERSONAL POEMS . Loss AND GAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 AUTUMNW ITHIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 0 VICTOR AN D VANQUISHED . . . . . . . . . 81 ME IORIE . S . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 2 MY BOOKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 3 LENVOI . NOTE. THIS volume contains all of Mr. Longfellows unprinted poems which will be given to the public, with the exception of two sonnets r e served for his Biography, and Michael Angel, a dramatic poem, which will be published later. he Childrens iusade was left unfinished. It is founded upon an event which occurred in the year 1212. An army of twenty thousand children, mostly boys, under the lead of a boy of ten years, named Nicolas, set out from o l o fnore t he Holy Land. When they reached Genoa only seven thousand remained. There, as the sea did not divide to allow them to march dry-shod to the East, they broke up. Some got as far as Rome two ship-loads sailed from Pisa, and mere not heard of again the rest straggled back tb Germany. POEMS. BECALMED. BECALMED up on the sea of Thought, Still unattained the land it sought, My mind, with loosely-hanging sails, Lies waiting the auspicious gales. On either side, behind, before, The ocean stretches like a floor, - A level floor of amethyst, Crowned by a golden dome of mist.-Blow, breath of inspiration, blow Shake and uplift this golden glow And fill the canvas of the mind With wafts of thy celestial wind. Blow, breath of song until I feel The straining sail, the lifting keel, The life of the awakening sea, Its motion and its mystery HERDIES TRISMEGISTUS. As Seleucus narrates, IIermes described the principles that rank as wholes in two myriads of books or, as we are informed by Manetho, he perfectly unfolded these principles in three myriads six thovsand five hundred and twenty-five volumes. . . . . . . Our ancestors dedicated the inventions of their wisdom to this deity, inscribing all their own writings with the name of Hermes. - IAMBLICUS. STILL through Egypts desert places Flows the lordly Nile, From its banks the great stone faces Gaze with patient smile. Still the pyramids imperious Pierce the cloudless skies, And the Sphinx stares with mysterious, Solemn, stony eyes. But where are the old Egyptian Demi-gods and kings. Nothing left but an inscription Graven on stones and rings. Where are Helius . and Hephoestus, Gods of eldest eld Where is Hermes Trismegistus, Who their secrets held Where are now the many hundred Thousand books he wrote By the Thaurnaturgists plundered, Lost in lands remote In oblivion sunk forever, As when oer the land Blows a storm-mind, in the river Sinks the scattered sand. Something unsubstantial, ghostly, Seems this Theurgist, In deep meditation mostly Wrapped, as in a mist.