Then shone the distant glory of the Lord

With rays of blessing on them; round they looked
And saw innumerable multitudes

Of bright immortals near; and soon aloft,
Upraised by silvery clouds, were they conveyed
To the Almighty Presence.

ABBADONA BEHOLDS CHRIST IN GETHSEMANE.

O THOU Who yonder dost contend with death,
Who art thou? Com'st thou from the dust? A son
Of that dishonored earth which bears God's curse,
And, ripe for judgment, trembling waits the day
Of dissolution? Com'st thou from her dust?
Yes! Human is thy form But majesty
Divine around it beams! Thy lofty eye

Speaks higher language than of graves and death!
Ha! trace I not tremendous likeness there?
Cease, boding terror! Death eternal, cease

To shake my shudd'ring soul! But yes! Ah, yes!

I trace resemblance to the Son of God!

To him who erst, borne on the flaming wheels
Of his red chariot, from Jehovah's throne
Thund'ring pursued us!

Once, but once, I turned
My trembling head behind in wild affright,
Saw the tremendous Son, caught the dread eye
Of him who wielded thunder! High he stood
Above his burning car; midnight's deep gloom
Lay stretched beneath his feet! below was death!
Omnipotent he came.-Woe, woe is me! Ah, then
The whirl of his avenging sword, the sound
Of his swift thunderbolt with deaf'ning din
Affrighted nature shook! I saw no more.

In night my eyes were sealed; plunging I sunk
Through storm and whirlwind, through the doleful cries
Of scared creation, fainting in despair;

Yet was immortal! Lo, I see him now!

E'en now I view his likeness in the form

Of yonder man, who, prostrate on the ground,
Lies there! Is he-ah, can he be the great,
The promised Saviour?

HERMANN AND THUSNELDA.

HERMANN, called Arminius by Tacitus, was the leader of the Germans in their famous victory over the Romans in 9 A.D. Thusnelda, his beloved, even more heroic, inspired and cheered him.

Lo! with sweat on his brow, with Roman gore stained,
With the dust of the battle decked, he cometh,

Ne'er was Hermann so lovely,

Thus never flashed his bright eye.

Come! I tremble with joy; give me the eagle,
And thy sabre blood-reeking! come! breathe freely,
Rest here in my embraces

From the too terrible fight!

Rest, that I from thy brow may wipe the sweat-drop,
And the blood from thy cheek. Thy cheek how glowing!
Hermann! Hermann! Thusnelda

Never hath loved thee as now;

Not e'en when in the forest's shade so wildly

Thou with sun-embrowned arm didst seize me. Stopping,
I already beheld thee

With immortality crowned.

Now 'tis thine. Oh, proclaim in grove and forest,
That e'en now with his gods Augustus, trembling,
Drinketh nectar, that Hermann

Wears a more durable crown!

"Wherefore twin'st thou my locks? Lies not our father Silent, dead at our feet? O had Augustus

Led his hosts to the battle,

Gorier would he lie there!"

Let me bind up thy waving hair, O Hermann,
That it may o'er thy wreath in ringlets threaten !

Siegmar dwelleth in heaven,

Follow, and weep not for him!

SAXONY, the heart of Germany, gave birth to Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (17291781), who wrote the first German national

comedy ("Minna von Barnhelm "), the first great German drama of serious import (" Nathan der Weise"), and laid the solid foundations of modern German literary and æsthetic criticism in his "Laokoon," a critical inquiry into artistic principles written in reply to Winckelmann's antiquarian theories. Lessing was a fine type of the clear-headed German truth-seeker. There was no mysticism nor etherealism in his intellectuality. He turned a keen searchlight on all questions, and applied a calmly logical mind to all his creative efforts. He was also the first to secure to Germany due estimation for the vocation of a man of letters. Lessing spoke of himself as a David who went out to slay the Goliath of Philistinism. Goethe afterwards thus sang of the departed master:

While thou wast living we honored thee as one of the gods: Now thou art dead thy spirit over our spirits presides.

Lessing's calmly critical spirit was early revealed in his religious tolerance, or, perhaps, indifferentism. In a youthful work on "The Jew" he foreshadowed the charity for a despised race that he was so triumphantly to preach in "Nathan the Wise." In later years he enjoyed the friendship of one of the noblest Jews of his age, Moses Mendelssohn, a broadminded leader of rare intellect and character. He determined to represent this man on the stage in a drama that should inculcate the necessity for mutual tolerance of creed to creed. A suitable plot was found in the story of "The Three Rings," already told in the old "Gesta Romanorum" and in Boccac

cio's "Decameron."*

In "Nathan der Weise" (1779), when Saladin seeks a pretext whereby to extort money from the rich son of Israel, the Jew outwits the Sultan by reciting this parable of the rings. Saladin is led to see that there may be as much doubt and need for charity regarding the true religion as concerning the magic ring of this parable. Not only in this central motive, but in the love romance and incidental scenes as well, Lessing has admirably contrasted narrow dogmatism and prejudice in all its ascending shades through the brutal fanaticism of the Patriarch, the conventionalism of Daja, the independence of the Templar, the humble piety of the Friar, the worldly contempt of the Dervis, the generosity of Saladin, to the enlightened virtue of Nathan.

Before "Nathan," however, Lessing had made his bow as a dramatist. In "Miss Sara Sampson," a curious tragedy founded on "Clarissa Harlowe," he had, as one critic says, "cracked the egg of Columbus for German dramatic art." In the comedy of "Minna von Barnhelm," he produced a national military drama, in which he typified German honor and valor in the hero-a veteran of the Prussian wars-and German womanhood of the best type in Minna, his sweetheart. His "Emilia Galotti" is a sort of Italian Virginia, and the play is directed against the tyranny of petty princelings.

"Lessing," says Professor Francke, "while combining in himself the enlightenment, the idealism, the universality of the best of his age, added to this an intellectual fearlessness and a constructive energy which have made him the champion destroyer of despotism and the master builder of lawful freedom."

NATHAN AND THE TEMPLAR.

Nathan. I'm almost shy of this strange fellow, almost
Shrink back from his rough virtue. That one man

Should ever make another man feel awkward!

And yet-He's coming-ha!-by God, the youth
Looks like a man. I love his daring eye,
His open gait. May be the shell is bitter;
But not the kernel surely. I have seen

Some such, methinks. Forgive me, noble Frank,

Templar. What?

Nath. Give me leave.

Temp. Well, Jew, what wouldst thou have?

Nath. The liberty of speaking to you.

Temp. So can I prevent it? Quick then, what's your

business?

Nath. Patience-nor hasten quite so proudly by

A man, who has not merited contempt,

And whom, for evermore, you've made your debtor.

Temp. How so? Perhaps I guess-No-Are you then-
Nath. My name is Nathan, father to the maid

Your generous courage snatched from circling flames,
And hasten-

Temp. If with thanks, keep, keep them all.
Those little things I've had to suffer much from:
Too much already, far. And, after all,

You owe me nothing.

Was I ever told

She was your daughter? 'Tis a templar's duty
To rush to the assistance of the first

Poor wight that needs him; and my life just then
Was quite a burden. I was mighty glad

To risk it for another; tho' it were

That of a Jewess.

Nath. Noble, and yet shocking!

The turn might be expected. Modest greatness
Wears willingly the mask of what is shocking
To scare off admiration: but, altho'

She may disdain the tribute, admiration,

Is there no other tribute she can bear with?

Knight, were you here not foreign, not a captive,
I would not ask so freely. Speak, command,

In what can I be useful?

Temp. You-in nothing.

Nath. I'm rich.

Temp. To me the richer Jew ne'er seemed The better Jew.

Nath. Is that a reason why

You should not use the better part of him,
His wealth?

Temp. Well, well, I'll not refuse it wholly,

For my poor mantle's sake-when that is threadbare,
And spite of darning will not hold together,