How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 



To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! 



As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life 



Were all too little, and of one to me 



Little remains: but every hour is saved 



From that eternal silence, something more, 



A bringer of new things; and vile it were 



For some three suns to store and hoard myself, 



And this gray spirit yearning in desire 



To follow knowledge like a sinking star, 



Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 



. . . My mariners, 

 Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought 



with me 



That ever with a frolic welcome took 

 The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 

 Free hearts, free foreheads you and I are old; 

 Old age hath yet his honor and his toil; 

 Death closes all : but something ere the end, 

 Some work of noble note, may yet be done, 



Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

 The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds 

 To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

 Of all the western stars, until I die. 



TENNYSON'S "ULYSSES. 



Ja ! diesem Sinne bin ich ganz ergeben, 



Dass ist der Weisheit letzter Schluss; 



Nur der verdient sich Freiheit wie das Leben, 



Der taglich sie erobern muss. 



Und so 1 verbringt, umrungen von Gefahr, 



Hier Kindheit, Mann und Greis sein tiichtig Jahr. 



Solch' ein Gewimmel mocht' ich sehn, 



Auf freiem Grund mit freiem Volke stehn. 



GOETHE'S "FAUST. 

 EXECUTIVE MANSION, ALBANY, N. Y. 

 September, jpoo. 



