land. I am not dazzled by her riches, nor awed by her power. The sceptre, the mitre, and the coronet, stars, garters, and blue ribbons, seem to me poor things for great men to contend for. Nor is my admiration awakened by her armies, mustered for the battles of Europe; her navies, overshadowing the ocean; nor her empire, grasping the furthest East. It is these, and the price of guilt and blood by which they are maintained, which are the cause why no friend of liberty can salute her with undivided affections. But it is the refuge of free principles, though often persecuted; the school of religious liberty, the more precious for the struggles to which it has been called; the tombs of those who have reflected honor on all who speak the English tongue; it is the birthplace of our fathers, the home of the pilgrims; it is these which I love and venerate in England. I should feel ashamed of an enthusiasm for Italy and Greece, did I not also feel it for a land like this. an American it would seem to me degenerate and ungrateful, to hang with passion upon the traces of Homer and Virgil, and follow without emotion the nearer and plainer footsteps of Shakspeare and Milton; and I should think him cold in his love for his native land, who felt no melting in his heart for that other native land, which holds the ashes of his forefathers. In THE LAST CRUSADER.-BULWER. Left to the Saviour's conquering foes, There, o'er the gently-broken vale, There still the olives silver o'er The dimness of the distant hill; There still the flowers that Sharon bore, Slowly the Last Crusader eyed The towers, the mount, the stream, the plain, He thought of that sublime array, Resign'd the loved, familiar lands, O'er burning wastes the cross to bear, And vain the hope, and vain the loss, And vain was Richard's lion-soul, And guileless Godfrey's patient mind— Likes waves on shore, they reach'd the goal, To die, and leave no trace behind! "O God!" the last Crusader cried, "And art thou careless of thine own? For us thy Son in Salem died, And Salem is the scoffer's throne! "And shall we leave, from age to age, Swift, as he spoke, before his sight A form flash'd, white-robed, from above; "Alas!" the solemn vision said, "Thy God is of the shield and spearTo bless the quick and raise the dead, The Saviour-God descended here! "Ah! knowst thou not the very name Of Salem bids thy carnage ceaseA symbol in itself to claim God's people to a house of peace! "Ask not the Father to reward The hearts that seek, through blood, the Son; O warrior! never by the sword The Saviour's Holy Land is won!" BALLAD FROM THE GERMAN.-HERDER Among green pleasant meadows, Of the Virgin and the Child. There oft, on summer evenings, Oft sat his mother by him, "And now from highest heaven And sees whate'er thou doest, And hears what thou dost say." Thus spake his tender mother: When the red round sun descended 'Mid clouds of crimson light Again the boy was playing; And earnestly said he, "O beautiful Lord Jesus, Come down and play with me." "I will find thee flowers the fairest "O holy, holy mother, Put him down from off thy knee; For in these silent meadows There are none to play with me." Thus spake the boy so lovely; That self-same night she dreamed "And for the fruits and flowers "For in the fields of heaven Thou shalt roam with me at will, Thus tenderly and kindly And thus it was accomplished: And thus he spoke in dying: "And in his hand he beareth He died-but that fond mother For she knew he was with Jesus, THE MOURNERS.-ELIZA COOK. King Death sped forth in his dreaded power And the first he took was a white-robed girl, "There's no joy," cried he, "now my dearest is gone, Take, take me, Death; for I cannot live on!" The sire was robb'd of his eldest bort, And he bitterly bled while the branch was torn: Bound to another from childhood's day; And the one that was left exclaim'd in despair, "Oh! he sleeps in the tomb-let me follow him there!" A mother was taken, whose constant love Had nestled her child like a fair young dove; And the heart of that child to the mother had grown, Death smiled as he heard each earnest word: 66 'Nay, nay," said he, be this work deferr'd; I'll see thee again in a fleeting year, And, if grief and devotion live on sincere, I promise then thou shalt share the rest Of the being now pluck'd from thy doating breast; As thou dost this moment, my spear shall fall;" And death fled till Time on his rapid wing Gave the hour that brought back the skeleton king. But the lover was ardently wooing again, Kneeling in serfdom, and proud of his chain; Rarer than that he had worshipp'd before: And his eyes still kept their joyous ray, Though he went by the grave where his first love lay, "Ha ha!" shouted Death, "tis passing clear That I am a guest not wanted here!" The father was seen in his children's games, Kissing their flush'd brows and blessing their names! And his eye grew bright as he mark'd the charms Of the boy at his knee and the girl in his arms: His voice rung out in the merry noise, "Are ye ready," cried Death, as he raised his dart. |