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One day we feed upon their smiles, — the next 1 So strength first made a way;
Is spent in swearing, sorrowing, and repenting. Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure :

When almost all was out, God made a stay, Eve never walked in Paradise more pure Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, Than on that morn when Satan played the devil

Rest in the bottom lay. With her and all her race. A lovesick wooer

Ne'er asked a kinder maiden, or more civil, . For if I should (said he) Than Cleopatra was to Antony

Bestow this jewel also on my creature, The day she left him on the Ionian sea.

He would adore my gifts instead of me,

And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature : The serpent — loveliest in his coiled ring,

So both should losers be.
With eye that charms, and beauty that outvies
The tints of the rainbow — bears upon his sting

Yet let him keep the rest,
The deadliest venom. Ere the dolphin dies But keep them with repining restlessness :
Its hues are brightest. Like an infant's breath Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
Are tropic winds before the voice of death

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

May toss him to my breast. Is heard upon the waters, summoning

GEORGE HERBERT. The midnight earthquake from its sleep of years To do its task of woe. The clouds that fling

The lightning brighten ere the bolt appears; The pantings of the warrior's heart are proud

ENIGMA. Upon that battle-morn whose night-dews wet his

THE LETTER “H." shroud; The sun is loveliest as he sinks to rest;

'Twas whispered in heaven, and muttered in hell, The leaves of Autumn smile when fading fast : And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell ; The swan's last song is sweetest.

On the confines of earth 't was permitted to rest, FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed;

'T was seen in the lightning, and heard in the

thunder; FORTUNE.

'T will be found in the spheres, when riven ENID'S SONG

asunder;

'T was given to man with his earliest breath, TURN, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the

Assists at his birth, and attends him in death; proud ;

Presides o'er his happiness, honor, and health, Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm,

Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth. and cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. It begins every hope, every wish it must bound,

h monard Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or All

crowned. frown ; With that wild wheel we go not up or down;

In the heaps of the miser 't is hoarded with care, Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

But is sure to be lost in his prodigal heir.

Without it the soldier and sailor may roam, Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; But woe to the wretch who expels it from home! Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; In the whispers of conscienceits voice will be found, For man is man and master of his fate.

Nor e'er in the whirlwind of passion be drowned.

It softens the heart ; and, though deaf to the ear,
Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; | It will make it acutely and instantly hear.
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; But in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower, —
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

O, breathe on it softly; it dies in an hour.
ALFRED TENNYSON.

MISS FANSHAWE.

FATHER LAND AND MOTHER TONGUE.

THE GIFTS OF GOD.

WHEN God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said he) pour on him all we can : Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie,

Contract into a span.

Our Father Land I and wouldst thou know

Why we should call it Father Land ?
It is that Adam here below

Was made of earth by Nature's hand.

And he, our father made of earth,

The thought was small ; its issue great ; a watchHath peopled earth on every hand;

fire on the hill ; And we, in memory of his birth,

It sheds its radiance far adown, and cheers the Do call our country Father Land.

valley still ! At first in Eden's bowers, they say,

A nameless man, amid a crowd that thronged No sound of speech had Adam caught,

the daily mart, But whistled like a bird all day,

Let fall a word of Hope and Love, unstudied, And maybe 't was for want of thought.

from the heart; But Nature, with resistless laws,

A whisper on the tumult thrown, — a transitory Made Adam soon surpass the birds ;

breath, She gave him lovely Eve because

It raised a brother from the dust; it saved a If he'd a wife they must have words.

soul from death.

O germ ! O fount ! O word of love ! O thought And so the native land, I hold,

at random cast ! By male descent is proudly mine ;

| Ye were but little at the first, but mighty at the The language, as the tale hath told,

last.

CHARLES MACKAY. Was given in the female line. And thus we see on either hand

We name our blessings whence they've sprung; We call our country Father Land,

RAIN ON THE ROOF. We call our language-Mother Tongue.

SAMUEL LOVER. When the showery vapors gather over all the

starry spheres, And the melancholy darkness gently weeps in

rainy tears, SMALL BEGINNINGS.

'T is a joy to press the pillow of a cottage chamA TRAVELLER through a dusty road strewed

ber bed, acorns on the lea;

And listen to the patter of the soft rain overhead. And one took root and sprouted up, and grew Every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in the into a tree.

heart, Love songht its shade, at evening time, to breathe And a thousand dreary fancies into busy being its early vows;

start; And age was pleased, in heats of noon, to bask | And a thousand recollections weave their bright beneath its boughs ;

hues into woof, The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, the birds | As I listen to the patter of the soft rain on the roof.

sweet music bore; It stood a glory in its place, a blessing evermore. There in fancy comes my mother, as she used to

years agone, A little spring had lost its way amid the grass To survey the infant sleepers ere she left them and fern,

'till the dawn. A passing stranger scooped a well, where weary |'I can see her bending o'er me, as I listen to the men might turn;

strain He walled it in, and hung with care a ladle at Which is played upon the shingles by the patter the brink;

of the rain. He thought not of the deed he did, but judged that toil might drink.

Then my little seraph sister, with her wings and He passed again, and lo! the well, by summers waving hair, never dried,

And her bright-eyed cherub brother, - a serene, Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues, and angelic pair, — saved a life beside.

Glide around my wakeful pillow with their praise

or mild reproof, A dreamer dropped a random thought; 't was As I listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the old, and yet 't was new;

roof. A simple fancy of the brain, but strong in being true.

And another comes to thrill me with her eyes' It shone upon a genial mind, and lo! its light delicious blue. became

I forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all A lamp of life, a beacon ray, a monitory flame. I untrue ;

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