DUTY.

PEARLS before swine: this is an old complaint;
In very humbleness, and not in pride,
The spirit feels it true; yet makes a feint

To rest with man's neglect well satisfied,
And have its wealth of words, its stores of thought
Despised or unregarded: woe betide

The heart that lives on praise! considering nought Of Duty's royal edicts, that command

Thy talents to be lent, thy lamp to shine: Soul, be not faint; nor, body, stay thy hand;

Heed only this, not whether those be swine But whether these be pearls, precious and pure; That so, whatever fate the world make thine, With God for Judge, thy guerdon be secure.

COUNSEL.

FOR MUSIC.

THERE is a time for praising,

And a better time for pray'r,—
The heart its anthem raising,

Or uttering its care:

One minute is for smiling,

And another for the tear,

Hope, by turns, beguiling,

Or her haggard brother, Fear.

But, if in joy thou praisest

The generous Hand that gave,-
And if in woe thou raisest

The prayer that He may save;
Thy griefs shall seem all pleasure,
As the chidings of a Friend,
And thy joys ecstatic measure
A beginning without end!

HOME.

FOR MUSIC.

I NEVER left the place that knew me,
And may never know me more,
Where the chords of kindness drew me,
And have gladdened me of yore,
But my secret soul has smarted
With a feeling full of gloom
For the days that are departed,
And the place I call'd my Home.

I am not of those who wander
Unaffectioned here and there,
But my heart must still be fonder
Of my sites of joy or care;
And I point sad memory's finger

(Though my faithless foot may roam)
Where I've most been made to linger
In the place I call'd my Home.

BYEGONES.

FOR MUSIC.

"LET byegones be byegones," they foolishly say, And bid me be wise and forget them;

But old recollections are active to-day,

And I can do nought but regret them;

Though the present be pleasant, all joyous and gay,
And promising well for the morrow,

I love to look back on the years past away,
Embalming my byegones in sorrow.

If the morning of life has a mantle of gray,
Its noon will be blither and brighter,

If March has its storm, there is sunshine in May,
And light out of darkness is lighter:

Thus the present is pleasant, a cheerful to-day,
With a wiser, a soberer gladness,

Because it is tinged with the mellowing ray
Of a yesterday's sunset of sadness.

RULE, BRITANNIA!

A STIRRING SONG FOR PATRIOTS, IN THE YEAR 1860.

To the tune of "Wha wouldna fight for Charlie ?”

RISE! ye gallant youth of Britain,
Gather to your country's call,
On your hearts her name is written,
Rise to help her, one and all!
Cast away each feud and faction,
Brood not over wrong nor ill,—
Rouse your virtues into action,

For we love our country still,-
Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia!

Raise that thrilling shout once more;
Rule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia !
Conqueror over sea and shore!

France is coming, full of bluster,
Hot to wipe away her stain,
Therefore, brothers, here we muster
Just to give it her again!
And if foemen, blind with fury,

Dare to cross our ocean-gulf,

Wait not then for judge nor jury,—

Shoot them as you would a wolf!

For Britannia, just Britannia,

Claims our chorus as before; Rule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia! Conqueror over sea and shore.

They may writhe, for we have galled them
With our guns in every clime,-
They may hate us, for we called them
Serfs and subjects in old time!
Boasting Gaul, we calmly scorn you
As old Æsop's bull the frogs;
Come and welcome! for, we warn you,
We shall fling you to our dogs!
For Britannia, our Britannia,
Thunders with a lion's roar;
Rule Britannia! Rule, Britannia!
Conqueror over sea and shore.

See, uprear'd our holy standard!

Crowd around it, gallant hearts !

What! should Britain's fame be slandered

As by fault on our parts

Let the rabid Frenchman threaten,

Let the mad invader come,

We will hunt them out of Britain,
Or can die for hearth and home!

For Britannia, dear Britannia,

Wakes our chorus evermoreRule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia ! Conqueror over sea and shore.

Rise then, patriots! name endearing, Flock from Scotland's moors and dales,

From the green, glad fields of Erin,

From the mountain homes of Wales,RISE! for sister England calls you, RISE! Our common weal to serve,

RISE! while now the song enthralls you, Thrilling every vein and nerve,

Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia!
Conquer, as thou didst of yore!
Rule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia!
Over every sea and shore.

THE EMIGRANT SHIP.

FOR MUSIC.

FAR away, far away,

The emigrant ship must sail to-day:

Cruel ship,—to look so gay

Bearing the exiles far away.

Sad and sore, sad and sore,

Many a fond heart bleeds at the core,
Cruel dread, to meet no more,

Bitter sorrow, sad and sore.

Many years, many years

At best will they battle with perils and fears;

Cruel pilot, for he steers

The exiles away for many years.

Long ago, long ago!

For the days that are gone their tears shall flow:

Cruel hour,-to tear them so

From all they cherished long ago.

Fare ye well, fare ye well!

To joy and to hope it sounds as a knell
Cruel tale it were to tell
How the emigrant sighs farewell.

Far away, far away!

Is there indeed no hope to-day?

Cruel and false it were to say

There are no pleasures far away.