DISAPPOINTED of her game,
Panting up the hill she came,
But her story was begun
Ere the summit quite she won.
"Mother! mother! I have been
Such a chase across the green,
By a cruel bird outwitted,
Still from bush to bush it flitted,
Rising oft, but soon alighting,
Still avoiding, still inviting :
Now I thought it all my own,
In a moment it was gone:
Onward still my steps it drew,
Then it spread its wing and flew ;-
What a world of pains it cost!
Now the pretty treasure's lost!"
While the maid her tale repeated,
Angry to be thus defeated,
First the prudent mother smiled,
Then bespoke her panting child:
Let thy chase, my darling, give
Lesson to thee how to live,
From thine own pursuit and sorrow,
From that bird a warning borrow :
Rash and headlong, child, like thee,
Man pursues felicity.
Still illusive prospects cheer him,
Still he thinks the treasure near him,
When he on the prize would spring,
Bliss is ever on the wing,
Thus his weary life he spends
In a chase that never ends,
Hopes conceived and baffled ever,
Bootless guest and vain endeavour."
DE ROSSI, trans. by J. ANSTICE.
LIFE is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
Day, how rapid in its flight—
Day, how few must see the night;
Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.
As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale?
Check thy climbing step, elate,
Evils lurk in felon wait.
As the shades of ev'ning close,
Beck'ning thee to long repose,
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-neuk of ease.
Say, man's true, genuine estimate
Is not, Art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Say, To be just, and kind, and wise,
There solid self-enjoyment lies.
Thus resign'd and quiet, creep
To the bed of lasting sleep,
Till future life, future no more,
To light and joy the good restore,
To light and joy unknown before.
66 ONE LOVING HOWRE."
FOR many yeares of sorrow can dispence;
A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre.
Shee has forgott how many a woeful stowre
For him she late endurd; she speakes no more
Of past true is, that true love hath no powre
To looken backe; his eies be fixt before.
SUCH a starved bank of moss
Till, that May morn,
Blue ran the flash across :
Violets were born!
Sky-what a scowl of cloud
Till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud :
Splendid, a star!
World-how it walled about
Life with disgrace
Till God's own smile came out ;
That was thy face!
THE EBB OF TIDE.
THE little maid lay moaning,
Late at the set of sun;
They told him, "She is dying
Now that the day is done!"
But listening by the window
He heard the full-toned roar,
Of great waves, plunging, plunging,
All down the silent shore.
And to the watchers weeping,
"She cannot go," he cried,
The soul-call never cometh
At flowing of the tide."
The little maid ceased moaning,
And darker grew the night;
They cried, "She is not dying;
She'll see the morning light! !”
But he heard there by the window
The plunging waves no more,
But the waters washing, washing,
Like a lake upon the shore.
And he heeded not the watchers,
As hopefully they cried ;
But said, with lips all trembling,
"It is the flood of tide."
The little maid lay sleeping,
Or ere the night was done,
They said, "She will awaken
To new life with the sun!"
But he listened the deep murmur
The sighing night-wind bore,
Of the waters sobbing, sobbing,
As they forsook the shore.
"Now pray the Lord Almighty,
Upon your knees," he cried,
pray Him by His mercy,
For 'tis the ebb of tide !"
Ah me! the world is evil,
And sick with care and sin,
And sure the Lord had mercy,
Who left her not therein;
For with one cry, "O Father!"
She woke ere it was day,
And sighed and smiled; and sighing
And smiling, passed away.
And sure, in life more blessèd
Her sweet soul doth abide,
Where on the sea of jasper
Is never ebb of tide.
THE COUNTRY BOY AT SILFORD HALL.
ALL round the house did Peter go, and found Food for his wonder all the house around. There guns of various bore, and rods and lines, And all that man for deed of death designs,
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