66 "Thank goodness, here comes one of us, with whom one can talk!" said the little Ball, and looked at the gilt Top. "I am really morocco, worked by maiden's hands, and have a Spanish cork within me; but no one would think it to look at me. I was very nearly marrying a swallow, but I fell into the gutter on the roof, and have lain there full five years, and become quite wet through. You may believe me; that's a long time for a young girl." But the Top said nothing. He thought of his old love; and the more he heard, the clearer it became to him that this was she. Then came the servant girl, and wanted to turn out the dust box. "Aha! there's a gilt Top!" she cried. And so the Top was brought again to notice and honor, but nothing was heard of the little Ball. And the Top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the beloved object has lain for five years in a gutter and got wet through; yes, one does not know her again when he meets her in the dust box. ANEURIN. ANEURIN, a famous Welsh bard of the sixth century. Of his epic and songs we possess the "Godolin," which is believed to be a description of one of the last great battles of the native Britons with the Saxon invaders. The poem as it has come down to us contains nearly 1000 lines, but it is not complete and lacks unity. The sense is obscure, and several passages are capable of various interpretations. THE GIANT GWRVELING FALLS AT LAST. (The bard tells the story of Gwrveling's revelry, impulsive bravery, and final slaughter of the foe before yielding to their prowess.) LIGHT of lights — the sun, Leader of the day, First to rise and run His appointed way, Crowned with many a ray, Sees the Britons fly. The horn in Eiddin's hall Had sparkled with the wine, And thither, at a call To drink and be divine, He went, to share the feast Not a shield To the field They fiercely flock, There to fall. But of all Who struck on giant Gwrveling, COMMENCEMENT OF THE GODODIN. Lo, the youth, in mind a man, Ah! much sooner comes thy bier MICHEL ANGELO. ANGELO MICHEL, also known as MICHELAGNOLO BUONARROTI, the eminent Italian sculptor, painter, architect, and poet; born at Caprese, March 6, 1475; died at Rome, February 18, 1564. Of world-wide and lasting renown as an artist and architect, his claim to literary fame rests upon his sonnets and letters. The best edition of his "Poems" was published at Florence, 1863; an English translation of the sonnets by Symonds, London, 1892. A volume of "Letters was published at Florence, 1865. SONNETS OF MICHEL ANGELO. (Translated by J. A. Symonds.) THE GARLAND AND THE GIRDLE. WHAT joy hath yon glad wreath of flowers that is Yea! and the belt to such as understand, Bound round her waist, saith-"Here I'd ever cling!" THE TRANSFIGURATION OF BEAUTY. (A Dialogue with Love.) NAY! prithee tell me, Love! when I behold Thou needs must know, for thou with her of old Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be SONNETS TO VITTORIA. Now on the one foot, on the other now, Like one to whom the stars by clouds are crossed: Not all unworthy of the boundless grace When godlike art has, with superior thought, |