Are bursting at my feet.

Oh! mother! life may be a dream ;
But if such dreams are given,
While at the portal thus we stand,
What are the TRUTHS of Heaven?

I bear a happy heart, mother;

Yet when fond eyes I see,

And hear soft tones and winning words,

I ever think of thee.

And then the tear my spirit weeps

Unbidden, fills my eye;

And, like a homeless dove, I long

Unto thy breast to fly.

THEN I am very sad, mother,

I'm very sad and lone ;

Oh! there's no heart whose inmost fold
Opes to me like thine own.

Though sunny smiles wreathe blooming lips,
While love-tones meet my ear;

My mother, one fond glance of thine
Were thousand times more dear.

Then with a closer clasp, mother,
Now hold me to thy heart:
I'd feel it beating 'gainst my own,
Once more before we part.
And, mother, to this love-lit spot,

When I am far away,

Come oft-TOO OFT thou can'st not come !

And for thy darling pray.

WILT THOU LOVE HER STILL?

ANONYMOUS.

Wilt thou love her still, when the sunny curls
That over her bosom flow,

Will be laced with the silver threads of age,

And her step falls sad and low?

Wilt thou love her still, when the Summer's siniles

On her lips no longer live?

"I will love her still,

With right good will!"

Thou wilt love her still? then our cherished one
To thy sheltering arms we give.

Wilt thou love her still, when her changeful eyes
Have grown dim with sorrow's rain;
When the bosom that beat against thine own
Throbs slow with the weight of pain;
When her silvery laugh rings out no more,
And vanished her youthful charms?
"With free good will,

I shall love her still!"

Thou wilt love her still? then our dearest one
We give to thy loving arms.

Remember, no grief has she ever known,
Her spirit is light and free;

None other, with falterless step, has prest

Its innermost shades, but thee!

[youth

Thou wilt love her still, when the thoughts of

In their blushing bloom depart?

"Through good and ill,

I will love her still."

Thou wilt love her still? then our darling take
To the joy of thy noble heart!

Remember, for thee does she smiling leave
The friends of her early days—

No longer to meet their approving looks,
Nor their fond, unfeigned praise.
Forgive her then if the tears fall fast,
And promise to love her well.
'I will love her still,

With right good will!'

Thou wilt love her still then with peaceful trust We our sobbing sorrows quell.

When her father is dead, and the emerald sod
Lies soft on her mother's breast:

When her brother's voice is no longer heard,
And her sister's hushed to rest-

Wilt thou love her still? for to thee she looks,
Her star on life's troubled sea!

"I will love her still,

Through good and ill!"

With the marriage vow on her youthful lip,
Then, we give our child to thee!

LOVE AT THE SCAFFOLD.

GILDEROY-CAMPBELL.

The last, the fatal hour has come,
That bears my love from me;
I hear the dead note of the drum,
I mark the gallows tree!

The bell has tolled; it shakes my heart;

The trumpet speaks thy name;
And must my Gilderoy depart
To bear a death of shame ?

No bosom trembles for thy doom:
No mourner wipes a tear ;
The gallows' foot is all thy tomb
The sledge is all thy bier!

Oh, Gilderoy! bethought we then
So soon, so sad to part,
When first in Roslin's lovely glen
You triumphed o'er my heart?

Your locks they glittered to the sheen,
Your hunter garb was trim;

And graceful was the ribbon green
That bound your manly limb!

Ah! little thought I to deplore
These limbs in fetters bound;
Or hear upon the scaffold floor,
The midnight hammer sound.

Ye cruel, cruel, that combined
The guiltless to pursue;
My Gilderoy was ever kind,
He could not injure you!

A long adieu! but where shall fly
Thy widow all forlorn,

When every mean and cruel eye
Regards my woe with scorn?

Yes! they will mock thy widow's tears.

And hate thine orphan boy;
Alas! his infant beauty wears
The form of Gilderoy!

Then will I seek the dreary mound,
That wraps thy mouldering clay;
And weep and linger on the ground
And sigh my heart away.

A PRAYER OF AFFECTION.

HEMANS.

Blessings, O Father, shower!

Father of mercies! round his precious head!
On his lone walks and on his thoughtful hour,
And the pure visions of his midnight bed,
Blessings be shed!

Father! I pray thee not

For earthly treasure to that most beloved,
Fame, fortune, power :--oh! be his spirit proved
By these, or by their absence, at will!
But let thy peace be wedded to his lot,
Guarding his inner life from touch of ill,
With its dove-pinion still!

Let such a sense of Thee

Thy watching presence, thy sustaining love
His bosom guest inalienably be,

That wheresoe'er he move,

Its heavenly serene
Upon his heart and mein