And thus 'twas thine to prove, dear babe,
When every hope was lost,

Ten times more precious to my soul,
For all that thou hadst cost!

Cradled in thy fair mother's arms,
We watched thee, day by day,
Pale like the second bow of heaven,
As gently waste away;

And, sick with dark foreboding fears
We dared not breathe aloud,

Sat hand in hand, in speechless grief,
To wait death's coming cloud!

It came at length: o'er thy bright blue eye The film was gathering fast,

And an awful shade passed o'er thy browThe deepest and the last:

In thicker gushes strove thy breath—

We raised thy drooping head:
A moment more-the final pang-

And thou wert of the dead!

Thy gentle mother turned away,
To hide her face from me,

And murmured low of Heaven's behests,
And bliss attained by thee:

She would have chid me that I mourned
A doom so bless'd as thine,

Had not her own deep grief burst forth
In tears as wild as mine!

We laid thee down in thy quiet rest,
And from thine infant brow

Culled one soft lock of radiant hair—

Our only solace now;

Then placed around thy beauteous corse, Flowers, not more fair and sweet

Twin rose-buds in thy little hands,

And jasmine at thy feet.

Though other offspring still be ours,
As fair perchance as thou,
With all the beauty of thy cheek,

The sunshine of thy brow,
They never can replace the bud
Our early fondness nursed:
They may be lovely and beloved,
But not, like thee, the FIRST!

The FIRST!-how many a memory bright
That one sweet word can bring,
Of hopes that blossomed, drooped, and died,
In life's delightful spring;
Of fervid feelings passed away—

Those early seeds of bliss
That germinate in hearts unseared
By such a world as this!

My sweet one, my sweet one,

My fairest and my First!

When I think of what thou mightst have been,
My heart is like to burst;

But gleams of gladness through my gloom
Their soothing radiance dart,

And my sighs are hushed, my tears are dried,
When I turn to what thou art!

Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls
And takes the stain of earth,
With not a taint of mortal life
Except thy mortal birth,

God bade thee early taste the spring

For which so many thirst;

And bliss, eternal bliss is thine,

My fairest and my First!

ALARIC A. WATTS.

Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude

Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood;
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,-
"For ever-never!
Never-for ever!"

In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;

His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning time-piece never ceased,-
"For ever-never!

Never-for ever!"

There groups of merry children played;
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;
O precious hours! O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!

Even as a miser counts his gold,

Those hours the ancient time-piece told, —

"For ever-never!
Never-for ever!"

From that chamber, clothed in white,
The bride came forth on her wedding night;
There, in that silent room below,

The dead lay in his shroud of snow!

And in the hush that followed the prayer

Was heard the old clock on the stair,66 For ever-never!

Never-for ever!"

All are scattered now and fled-
Some are married, some are dead;
And when I ask, with throbs of pain,
"Ah! when shall they all meet again?"

As in the days long since gone by,
The ancient time-piece makes reply,-
66 For ever-never!
Never-for ever!"

Never here, for ever there,

Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,-
For ever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity

Sayeth this incessantly,

"For ever-never!

Never for ever!"

LONGFELLOW.

HOPE.

WHITE as a white sail on a dusky sea,
When half the horizon's clouded and half free,
Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky,
Is Hope's last gleam in man's extremity.
Her anchor parts; but still her snowy sail
Attracts our eye amidst the rudest gale-
Though every wave she climbs divides us more,
The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

BYRON.

LOCHINVAR.

Он, young Lochinvar is come out of the west!
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapon had none—
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone!
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar !

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented-the gallant came late;

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar!

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,

'Mong bride's men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all! Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his swordFor the poor craven bridegroom said never a word:

66

O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied:
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
Who would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!"

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh—
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar—
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!"

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near,

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar.