Still may we battle for goodness and beauty;
Still hath philanthropy much to essay:
Glory rewards the fulfilment of duty;

Rest will pavilion the end of our way.

What though corroding and multiplied sorrows,
Legion-like, darken this planet of ours,
Hope is a balsam the wounded heart borrows,
Ever when anguish hath palsied its powers;
Wherefore, though fate play the part of a traitor,
Soar o'er the stars on the pinions of hope,
Fearlessly certain that sooner or later

Over the stars thy desire shall have scope.

Look round about on the face of creation!
Still is God's earth undistorted and bright;
Comfort the captives to long tribulation,
Thus shalt thou reap the more perfect delight.
Love!-but if love be a hallowed emotion,
Purity only its rapture should share ;
Love, then, with willing and deathless emotion,
All that is just, and exalted, and fair.

Act! for in action are wisdom and glory.
Fame, immortality-these are its crown:
Wouldst thou illumine the tablets of story,

Build on achievements thy dome of renown.
Honour and feeling were given thee to cherish;
Cherish them, then, though all else should decay:
Landmarks be these that are never to perish,
Stars that will shine on thy duskiest day.

Courage!-disaster and peril once over,
Freshen the spirit, as showers the grove:
O'er the dim graves that the cypresses cover,
Soon the "forget-me-not" rises in love.

Courage, then, friends! though the universe crumble,
Innocence, dreadless of danger beneath,
Patient and trustful, and joyous and humble,
Smiles through the ruin on darkness and death.

-SEEWIS.

J. MANGAN.

THE GRAVE.

THE grave it is deep and soundless,
And canopied over with clouds;
And trackless, and dim, and boundless,
Is the unknown land that it shrouds,

-Ibid.

In vain may the nightingales warble
Their songs-the roses of love
And friendship grow white on the marble
The living have reared above.

The virgin, bereft at her bridal
Of him she has loved, may weep;
The wail of the orphan is idle,

It breaks not the buried one's sleep.

Yet everywhere else shall mortals
For peace unavailingly roam;
Except through the shadowy portals,
Goeth none to his genuine home!

And the heart that tempest and sorrow
Have beaten against for years,
Must look for a sunnier morrow
Beyond this temple of tears.

THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND.

WHERE is the German's fatherland?
Is't Prussia? Swabia? Is't the strand

Where grows the vine, where flows the Rhine?
Is't where the gull skims Baltic's brine?
No; yet more great and far more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!

How call they then the German's land?
Bavaria? Brunswick?

Hast thou scanned

It where the Zuyder Zee extends?
Where Styrian toil the iron bends?
No, brother, no; thou hast not spanned
The German's genuine fatherland!

Is then the German's fatherland
Westphalia? Pomerania? Stand
Where Zurich's waveless water sleeps ;
Where Weser winds, where Danube sweeps:
Hast found it now?-Not yet! Demand
Elsewhere the German's fatherland!

Then say, where lies the German's land?
How call they that unconquered land?
Is't where Tyról's green mountains rise?
The Switzer's land I dearly prize,
By freedom's purest breezes fanned-
But no; 'tis not the German's land!

Ibid

-ARNDT.

Where, therefore, lies the German's land?
Baptise that great, that ancient land!
"Tis surely Austria, proud and bold,
In wealth unmatched, in glory old?
Oh! none shall write her name on sand:
But she is not the German's land!

Say then, where lies the German's land?
Baptise that great, that ancient land!
Is't Alsace? Or Lorraine-that gem
Wrenched from the imperial diadem
By wiles which princely treachery planned?
No;
these are not the German's land!

Where, therefore, lies the German's land?
Name now at last that mighty land!
Where'er resounds the German tongue-
Where German hymns to God are sung-
There, gallant brother, take thy stand I
That is the German's fatherland!

That is his land, the land of lands,
Where vows bind less than clasped hands,
Where valour lights the flashing eye,
Where love and truth in deep hearts lie,
And zeal enkindles freedom's brand,
That is the German's fatherland!

That is the German's fatherland!

Great God! look down and bless that land!
And give her noble children souls

To cherish while existence rolls,

And love with heart, and aid with hand,
Their universal fatherland!

Dublin Magazine.

HONESTY.

A HYMN FOR CHILDREN.

WITH honest heart go on your way,
Down to your burial sod,

And never for a moment stray
Beyond the path of God.

Then like a happy pilgrim here,

O'er pleasant meadows going,

You'll reach the bank without a fear,

Where death's chill stream is flowing.

-HOLTY.

And everything along your way
In colours bright shall shine;
The water from the jug of clay
Shall taste like costly wine!

Then cherish faith and honesty
Down to your burial clod,
And never for a moment stray
Beyond the path of God.

Your sons and grandsons to your tomb
Shall come, their tears to shed;

And from their tears sweet flowers shall bloom
Above your sleeping head!

"WHAT one can never do for me again,
That I'll not do for him. To none I owe
What he ne'er did for me, and ne'er can do."
And thus will you live justly, well, and calmly?
No; not even so; say nought of useful, noble,
Divine and human life (the two are one).
Then first of all, grant not your child a grave;
For sure your child can never bury you!
Follow no friend to his last resting-place;
For he can never rise to follow you!
Give no poor wanderer a crust of bread,
Lest he should never meet you and return it!
Clothe not the poor till he can so clothe you!
And bind not up your house-dog's broken limb;
He'll ne'er return that self-same benefit-
The hound can only bark and keep your door.
The beggar only prays, 66 Reward you God!"
But I say: Whatsoever thing you do,
None other can do that for you again.
Either that same thing you may never need,
Or, if you need it, it may not be found.
Humanity will always be around you;
Hear then my counsel, hear the word divine-
To every man give that which most he needs;
Do that which he can never do for you!

Thus live you like the spring that gives you water,
And like the grape that sheds for you its blood,
And like the rose that perfume sheds for you,
And like the bread that satisfies your need,
And like the clouds that pour their rains for you,
And like the sun that shines so gladly for you,
And like the earth that bears you on her bosom,
And like the dead who left their care for you!

GOSTICK.

You cannot teach the dead, nor bless the heavens,
Nor bear the earth, nor give the sun more glory,
Nor clouds more rain; you cannot nourish bread,
Nor give the rose its fragrance, nor the vine
Its sap, nor can you feed the water-springs.
And now,
what were you, if none did for you
What you ne'er did and ne'er can do for him?
For what can you return to God for all?
Your very spirit means His spirit—given—
Then like that spirit, freely, purely, truly,
Divinely, do for every one your best.
Thus only can you live in righteousness,
In heavenly peace, joyful, and free from care;
Thus will you live even as His spirit lives;
Thus will you in His very kingdom dwell.
Do all for men that they do not for

-SCHEFER.

you!

HONOUR TO WOMEN.

HONOUR to women! entwining and braiding,
Life's garland with roses for ever unfading,

In the veil of the graces all modestly kneeling,

Anon.

Love's band with sweet spells have they wreathed, have they

blessed.

And tending with hands ever pure, have caressed,

The flame of each holy, each beautiful feeling.

Ever truth's bright bounds outranges
Man, and his wild spirit strives,
Ever with each thought that changes
As the storm of passion drives-
With heart appeased, contented, never
Grasps he at the future's gleam,
Beyond the stars pursuing ever

The restless phantom of his dream.

But the glances of women, enchantingly glowing,
Their light woos the fugitive back, ever throwing
A link round the present, that binds like a spell;
In the meek cottage home of the mother presiding,
All graces, all gentleness, round them abiding,
As nature's true daughters, how sweetly they dwell.
Man is ever warring, rushing

Onward through life's stormy way,
Wild his fervour, fierce and crushing,
Knows he neither rest nor stay,
Creating, slaying-day by day
Urged by passion's fury brood,
A hydra band, whose heads, for aye
Fall, to be for aye renewed.