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Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil | The bright scenes of my youth, - all Be blest with health, and peace,

gone out now. and sweet content!

How eagerly its flickering blaze doth And, oh, may Heaven their simple

catch lives prevent

On every point now wrapped in From luxury's contagion, weak

time's deep shade! and vile!

Into what wild grotesqueness by its Then, howe'er crowns and coronets

tlash be rent,

And fitful checkering is the picture A virtuous populace may rise the

made! while,

When I am glad or gav, And stand a wall of fire around their Let me walk forth into the brilliant much-lov'd isle.

sun,

And with congenial rays be shone ( Thou! who pour'd the patriotic

upon: tide

When I am sad, or thought-beThat stream'd thro? Wallace's un

witched would be, daunted heart;

Let me glide forth in moonlight's Who dar'dd to nobly stem tyrannic

mystery, pride,

But never, while I live this changeOr nobly die, the second glorious

ful life, part,

This past and future with all won(The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou

ders rife, art.

Never, bright flame, may be denied His friend, inspirer, guardian, and

to me reward!)

Thy dear, life-imaging, close sympa( never, never Scotia's realm desert;

thiv. But still the patriot, and the pa What but my hopes shot upwards triot-bard,

e'er so bright? In bright succession raise, her orna What but my fortunes sank so low ment and guard!

in night? BURNS. Why art thou banished from our

hearth and hall,

Thou who art welcomed and beloved TILE BABE.

by all?

Was the existence then too fanciful NAKED on parents' knees, a newborn For our life's common light, who are chilil,

so dul? Weeping thou sat’st when all around Did thy bright gleam mysterious thee smiled:

converse hold So live, that, sinking to thy last long With our congenial souls? secrets sleep,

too bold? Thou then maust smile while all Well, we are safe and strong; for now around thee weep.

we sit SIR WILLIAM JONES: Beside a hearth where no dim shaTranslateıl from (alidasa.

dows flit; Where nothing cheers nor saddens,

but a fire TIIE WOOD-FIRE.

Warms feet and hands, nor does to

more aspire; This bright wood-fire,

By whose compact, utilitarian hear. So like to that which warmed and The present may sit down and go to lit

sleep, My youthful days, - how doth it Nor fear the ghosts who from the dim flit

past walked, Back on the periods nigher! And with us by the unequal light of Re-lighting and re-warming with its

the old wood-fire talked.

E. S. H.

glow

GIVE ME THE OLD.

IV.

Old wine to drink!
Ay, give the slippery juice
That drippeth from the grape thrown

loose
Within the tun;
Plucked from beneath the cliff
Of sumy-sided Teneriffe,

And ripened 'neath the blink
Of India's sun !

Peat whiskey hot,
Tempered with well-boiled water!
These make the long night shorter,

Forgetting not
Good stout old English porter.

Old friends to talk! Ay, bring those chosen few, The wise, the courtly, and the true,

So rarely found; Ilim for my wine, him for my stud, Him for my easel, distich, bud

In mountain walk!

Bring Walter good: With soulful Frent; and learned Will, And thee, my alter ego, (dearer still For every mood).

R. H. MESSINGER.

TO A CHILD,

II.

Old wood to burn !Ay, bring the hillside beech From where the owlets meet and

screech,

And ravens croak; The crackling pine, and cedar sweet; Bring too a clump of fragrant peat, Dug 'neath the fern;

The knotted oak,

A fagot too, perhap, Whose bright tlame, dancing, wink

iny, Shall light us at our drinking;

While the oozing sap Shall make sweet music to our think

I would that thou might always be
As innocent as now,
That time might ever leave as free
Thy yet unwritten brow.
I would life were all poetry
To gentle measure set,
That nought but chastened melody
Might stain thine eye of jet,
Nor one discordant note be spoken,
Till God thecunning harp had broken.
I fear thy gentle loveliness,
Thy witching tone and air,
Thine eye's beseeching earnestness
May be to thee a share.
The silver stars may purely shine,
The waters taintless flow;
But they who kneel at woman's

shrine
Breathe on it as they bow.

N. P. WILLIS.

ing.

III.

TIIE CHILDREN'S VIOUR.

Old books to read! Ay, bring those nodes of wit, The brazen-clasped, the vellum-writ,

Time-honored tomes! The same my sire scanned before, The same my grandsire thumbeilo'er, The same his sire from college bore,

The well-earned meed

Of Oxford's doines :

Old Ilomer blind, Old Horace, rake Anacreon, by Old Tully. Plautus, Terence lje; Mort Arthur's olden minst reisie, Quaint Burton, quainter Spenser, ay! And Gerrase Markham's venerie —

Nor leave behind The Holy Book by which we live

and die.

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to

lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupa

tions That is known as the children's

hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened,

And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamp

light, Descending the broad hall-stair,

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How (not to call true instinct's bent | Fresh as the morning, earnest as the And woman's very nature harm),

hour How amiable and innocent

That calls the noisy world to grateHer pleasure in her power to

ful sleep, charm!

Our silent thought reveres the nameHow humbly careful to attract,

less power Though crowned with all the soul That high seclusion round thy life desires,

doth keep: Connubial aptitude exact,

So feigned the poets, did Diana love Diversity that never tires !

To smile upon her darlings while COVENTRY PATMORE.

they slept; Serene, untouched, and walking far

above SIE WALKS IN BEAUTY. The narrow ways wherein the many

crept, She walks in beauty, like the night Along her lonely path of luminous air Of cloudless climes and starry She glided, of her brightness unskies;

aware. And all that's best of dark and bright

Yet if they said she heeded not the Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

hymn Thus mellowed to that tender light Of shepherds gazing heavenward Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

from the moor;

Or homeward sailors, when the waOne shade the more, one ray the

ters dim less,

Flashed with long splendors, widenHad half impaired the nameless ing toward the shore; grace

Nor wondering eyes of children cared Which waves in every raven tress,

to see; Or softly lightens o'er her face, Or glowing face of happy lover, upWhere thoughts serenely sweet ex

turned, press

As late he wended from the trystingllow pure, how dear, their dwell

tree, ing-place.

Lit by the kindly lamp in heaven

that burned ; And on that cheek, and o'er that And heard umoved the prayer of

wakeful pain, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, Or cousecrated maiden's holy vow, The smiles that win, the tints that Believe them not: they sing the glow,

song in vain; But tell of days in goodness spent, For so it never was, and is not now. A mind at peace with all below, Her heart was gentle as her face was A heart whose love is innocent.

fair, BYRON. With grace and love and pity dwell

ing there.

F. B. SANBORN. ANATIEMATA. "O maiden! come into port bravely, or

HONORIA. sail with God the seas." Wiru joys unknown, with sadness I WATCHED her face, suspecting unconfessed,

germs The generous heart accepts the pass I Of love: her farewell showed me ing year,

plain Finds duties dear, and labor sweet as She loved, on the majestic terms rest,

That she should not be loved again. And for itself knows neither care. She was all millness; yet t’was writ nor fear.

Upon her beauty legibly,

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“ He that's for heaven itself unfit, | Than any other planet in Heaven, Let him not hope to merit me.” The moone, or the starres seven,

For all the world, so had she
Surmounten them all of beauty,

Of manner, and of comeliness, And though her charms are a strong Of stature, and of well set gladnesse, law

Of goodly heed, and so well besey, Compelling all men to admire, Shortly what shall I more sev. They are so clad with lovely awe, By God, and by his holowes’ twelve, None but the noble dares desire. It was my sweet, right all herselve.

She had so stedfast countenance Ile who would seek to make her his, In noble port and maintenance, Will comprehend that souls of And Love that well harde my bones grace

Had espied me thus soone, Own sweet repulsion, and that 'tis That she full soone in my thought The quality of their embrace

As, help me God,so was I caught

So sudilenly that I ne took To be like the majestic reach

No manner counsel but at her look, Of coupled suns, that, from afar, And at my heart for why her eyen Mingle their mutual spheres, while So gladly I trow mine heart, seyen each

That purely then mine own thought Circles the twin obsequious star: Said, "Twere better to serve her for

nought And in the warmth of hand to hand, Than with another to be well.

Of heart to heart, he'll vow to note And reverently understand

I saw her dance so comely, How the two spirits shine remote; Carol and sing so swetely,

Laugh and play so womanly, And ne'er to numb fine honor's nerve, And look so debonairly,

Nor let sweet awe in passion melt, So goodly speak, and so friendly, Nor fail by courtesies to observe That certes I trow that evermore The space which makes attraction Nas seen so blissful a treasore, felt;

For every hair on her head,

Sooth to say, it was not red, Nor cease to guard like life the sense Nor neither yellow nor brown it n'as, Which tells him that the embrace Methon'sht most like gold it was, of love

And such even my ladly had, Is o’er a gulf of difference

Debonnaire, good, glad, and sad, Love camot sound, nor death re Simple, of good mokel,not too wide, move.

Thereto her look was not aside,
COVENTRY PATMORE. Vor overt whart, but beset so well

It drew and took up every dell.
All that on her 'gan behold

Iler eyen seemed anon she would
DUCHESSE BLANCHE. lave mercy, — folly wenden so,

But it was never the rather do. It happed that I came on a day

It was no counterfeiteil thing Into a place, there that I say,

It was her own pure looking Truly the fairest companey

That the goddess Dame Nature Of ladies that ever man with eye Had made them open by measure Had seen together in one place, — And close; for, were she never so Shall I clepe it hap or grace?

gladl Among these ladies thus each one Iler looking was not foolish sprad 6 Sooth to say I saw one

Nor wildly, though that she plaved; That was like none of the rout, But ever methoughi her eyen said For I dare swear without doubt,

1 Beseer), appearing. 4 Quantity. That as the summer's Sune bright

Saints.

6 Thought. Is fairer, clearer, and hath more light · Boon, petition,

• Spread.

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