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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
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.
And with congenial rays be shone ( Thou! who pour'd the patriotic
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
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.
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.
GIVE ME THE OLD.
Old wine to drink!
And ripened 'neath the blink
Peat whiskey hot,
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,
Old wood to burn !Ay, bring the hillside beech From where the owlets meet and
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
N. P. WILLIS.
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
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
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,
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
As late he wended from the trystingllow pure, how dear, their dwell
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
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,
“ 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
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,
It drew and took up every dell.
Iler eyen seemed anon she would
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
6 Thought. Is fairer, clearer, and hath more light · Boon, petition,