90 THE EEV. F. A. WALKER, D.D., P.L.S., ON 



" Their sad waters, sad and chilly, 

 With the snows of the lolling lily." 



Edgar Allan Poe, Dreamland, p. 86. 



The above description, in reference to the Lotos tribe, is 

 so beautifully true to nature that it must not be passed over 

 in silence. Much more is delicately hinted at here than is 

 perhaps at first apparent. The time of year is late autumn — 

 this is indicated not only by the chill here spoken of, but by 

 the " lolling " of the Hly. It trails along the wave, or 

 droops beneath the surface, it can no longer bear up its 

 head erect into air and light. The scene is accurately and 

 vividly depicted — true to life in every particular, or perhaps 

 I sliould rather say to death, for we seem to scent the 

 incipient decay of vegetation, and the expression "sad 

 waters " aptly portrays the gloom settling down over the 

 wave on a late autumnal eve, when the sun has set, or is 

 veiled in mist. (Addenda T'Y.) 



Lotos the Shrub. 



The Lotos blooms below the barren peak, 



The Lotos blows by every winding ci-eek, 



All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone 



Thro' every hollow cave, and alley lone, 



Ronnd and roand the spicy downs the yellow lotos dust is blown. 



"We have had enough of action and of motion, we 



EoUed to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free, 



Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. 



Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, 



In the hollow lotos-land to live and lie reclined 



On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind. 



The charmed sunset lingered low adown. 



In the red v/e^t thro' mountain clefts the dale 



Was seen far inland, and the yellow down 



Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale 



And meadow set with slender galingale, 



A land where all things always seenrd the same. 



And round about the keel with faces pale, 



Dark faces pale against that rosy flame, 



The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came ; 



Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, 



Laden with tlower and fruit whereof they gave 



To each, but whoso tlid receive of them 



And taste, to him the gushing of the wave 



Far, far away, did seem to mourn and rave 



On alien shores, and if his fellow spake 



His voice was thin, as voices from the grave, 



