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sent king of France entertains towards the character of the Father of our country is well known.

In front of the palace is a large square, on both sides of which are public buildings, and which contain statues of the great generals of France. In the centre of this square is an equestrian statue of Louis XIV.

The royal gardens of Versailles are very beautiful. A large terrace extends before the palace, which is adorned with fine statuary. On the left is the Orangerie, or garden of orange trees; in front are several beautiful fountains, beyond which a fine avenue leads to a large canal. The rarest and sweetest flowers are found here, and it is the resort of the most fashionable people of Paris. The fountains, of which there are a great many in the garden, are supplied with water by an aqueduct, which was built by Louis XIV. at a great expense.

The city is surrounded on all sides by woods, which are very agreeable in the summer season. The town itself is very pleasant, and is much visited by strangers as well as by the citizens of Paris. There is much to invite thither, besides the interest connected with the palace and its gardens.

At some distance from the town is the palace of the Trianon, which was the favorite seat of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. This small chateau is surrounded by a fine park, in which is a little Swiss village, which was built under the directions of that unhappy queen. She used often to visit it with her husband; and, dressed in the costume of Swiss peasants, they amused themselves in that simplicity which gives happiness to the poor man, but which failed of giving it to his royal imitators.

Silver bubbles, lo! are springing,
Ha! 'tis all a molten flood!
Haste, the potash quickly bringing,
Dash in to heal his fiery blood!

From the refuse free

Let the fusion be;

Then from pure and spotless metal
Clear and full it rings its prattle.

With peals of joy it hails the festal.

And greets the babe in freshest bloom,
In slumber's arms, that, pure as vestal,
Begins his journey-to the tomb.
The womb of time his fate concealeth,
The gay scenes and the gloomy sealeth:
A mother's love, his smiles adorning,
Lone watches o'er his golden morning-
Years arrow-fleet are rushing on;

From woman's arms to storm and danger, The proud boy wildly hastes to roam,

And-wand'ring o'er the earth a stranger— A stranger's staff conducts him home. But glittering in full maiden beauty, Pure as a spirit from above, With blushing cheek and heart of duty, Before him stands-the dream of love! A nameless thought his soul entrances,

His young heart heaves apart to roam,
He flies his brother's noisy dances

To weep his swelling tears alone.
And blushing all her steps he traces,
Joy lives alone within her smile;
For flower and gem o'er fields he races,
And thinks to deck his love the while.

O, tender hope! sweet expectation!

Thou golden age of first-born loveBursts on the eye a new creation,

And hearts with speechless raptures move. O, would thy days of May-day flowers Might even bloom for love's young hours!

See! the pipes are brown already,

Now I dip the stavelet in.

If 'tis glazed, let all be ready,
Then the casting must begin.
Quick, my comrades, tell!
Try the fusion well.

When the hard with soft combineth,
'Tis an omen Heaven designeth.

For when the strong sustains the weaker,
And when the stern conjoins the meeker,
Then ringeth out the noble song.
For he, who frames eternal union,
Should prove the hearts in true communion;
The dream is short-repentance long!
O'er the fair bride's ringlets twining
Flowers in virgin-wreaths are pour'd,
When the church-bells merrily chiming,
Call them round the festal board.

Ah! this life's most beauteous festal
Endeth also life's brief May;
With the girdle of the vestal
Tears the lovely dream away.
For passion will fly,

Though love be enduring;
The blossoms must die,
While fruit is maturing.
The husband must battle
With life and its anguish,
Must toil and not languish.
With planting and planning
By stealth and by cunning,
And win by a venture

His fortune's indenture.
Then wealth unending pours in like a river,
The rooms and the palace are widening ever,
And granaries burst with the riches of Ind.
The modest wife reigneth,
And indoors restraineth:
The mother of children,
Her circle she ruleth,

With wisdom she schooleth;
The maidens she teacheth,
The lads she beseecheth,
And plies without ceasing
Her hand ne'er releasing,
And hoardeth the gains
With method and pains.

The sweet-scented lockers she filleth with trea

sure,

The swift whirring spindle she twirls at her

leisure,

The smooth-polished cabinets fill and o'erflow With shimmering wool and linen like snow; To the useful she addeth the beautiful ever, And resteth never.

Now the father with eye of delight

From his mansion's far-seeing gable
Enjoyeth the sight of his fortunes bright,
Gazing on sheaves, full ripe for his table.
And the sheds out-press'd with their burdens,
And granaries teeming with guerdons,
And corn-blades in huge billows waving.
The fool's lips utter menace-
"Firm as earth's deep base,
Spite of ill-luck's power
Stands my house's dower."
Eternal Fate is ever snapping
All the bonds of human trapping,
And swift misfortune hasteth on.
Good! the founding now we warrant,
The breach is jagged well below,
But before we loose the torrent,
Raise to Heaven one pious vow.
Strike the spigot loose!
God preserve the house!

Smould'ring fire-brown waves are gushing,
Swift to the arching handle rushing.

And kindly serves the might of fire,
While man subdues and guards its ire.
For all he shapes in toil or dreams,
He oweth to this god-like means.
But fearful is this god-like means,
When bursting from its yielding chains
It ranges in its pathway wild
Ruthlessly, free nature's child.
Wo, when forked flames leap gladly,

Bursting where no barrier stands,
Through the peopled streets, and sadly
Rolling on their gleaming brands.
Then fierce elements gnash madly
At the works of human hands.
Clouds from Heaven

In full measures

Pour their treasures;

Scathful from the clouds and rash

Gleams the flash!

Heard ye it moaning from the tower? The storm-clouds lower!

Red as blood

Is th' arch of Heaven.

Ah! 'tis not the daylight's flood! Ether is riven

With the cries;

Dark billows rise.

Pillars high of flames ascending

Through the streets their red way wending;
Hot, as from the wide-mouth'd forges,
Glows the air; the steam disgorges;
Children moaning, timbers shatter,
Mothers roaming, windows clatter,
Howl the cattle,
Ruins rattle,

All is running, grasping, screaming,
Midnight clear as day is gleaming,
Through the files from hands so hardy-
None is tardy-

Flies the bucket: high o'erbending
Water-waves the engines sending,
Hideous howls the storm is blending,
Wings of wind are fanning flames,
Crackling in the well-dried grains;
O'er the garners rafters totter,
Fall and crash; the flames grow hotter,
Mighty blasts rush swift and bolder,
As to tear and clean efface
Earth's huge volume from its base.
Now it climbs the zenith bolder,
Giant great!

In ruthless state

Gazes man on garners wastedHeavenly might his hopes have blastedWildly watches as they smoulder.

Burnt and void

Looks the room,

Wild storms there now find a home.

'Stead of hollow casement cells Horror dwells.

Clouds of Heaven, huge and darkling,' Peer on high.

One last look

Towards the tomb

Of his home

Sendeth now the master back

Cheerily grasps his staff to roam; Though stripp'd of all a life had won, There's one sweet hope to him belonging; He counts the faces quickly thronging, Aha! not one dear child is gone.

Now within the earth 'tis taken,

Fitly now the mould doth fill; May 't in beauty soon rewaken, Paying for our toil and skill. Ah! the cast may fail?

Should the mould be frail?

Ah! perchance e'en while we're hoping
Stealthy ill its way is groping.

To sacred earth's dark cave descending
Our handiwork in faith is lain,
E'en as the sower trusts the grain,
In hope, that soon the germ ascending
Will bless, as th' Increase-giver deign.
Far richer seeds do we inter,

Lamenting in earth's dismal tomb,
In hope they from the sepulchre
Will mount up to a lovelier doom.
From the turret

Sounds the bell Its slow heavy

Fun'ral knell,

Sad attending with its solemn swelling
Some poor pilgrim to his narrow dwelling.

Ah! the wife, the dearest partner,
Gentle, true and trusty mother,
Whom the Prince of Shadows seizes

From a husband's fond embraces,

From the prattling infant throng

Whom she bore, when years were young;
Whom upon her breast she bare
Watching them with mother's care-
Ah! how sudden death doth sever

All the ties of hope and home;
Now that mother dwells for ever
In the shadowy land alone.
Glaz'd is now that eye propitious,
Now her care is powerless;
O'er the orphan'd house, capricious
Rules the stranger, lovingless.

While with heat the Bell is parting
Let the toilsome labor cease;
Like the birds 'mid branches darting,
Leap and carol, as you please.

Mart and valley now grow stiller,
Round the social flaming taper
Gathers now each cottager.
Darkness falleth

O'er the mountains,

But the guarded burgher palleth Not at night;

Conscience aye the wicked calleth, Law hath eyes for ever bright.

Holy order, rich in dower,
Heaven's daughter, by whose power
Equals are so wisely mated;
Who the walled town created;
Summon'd back from desert places
Savage man to law's embraces;
'Neath the lowly rude roof reaching,
Gentle truths its inmates teaching,
Holy flames untiring fann'd,
Our native love of Fatherland.

A thousand hearts in palpitation
Beat in sweetest rivalry;
Thus in burning emulation

Human powers their glory see.
'Neath their holy freedom's banner
Man and minion ply their toil,
Happy in his grade and manner
Each contemns the rabble's broil.
Service is the burgher's glory,

Heavenly boons his labor's prize:
Kings may boast the fame of story,
Ours the nimble hand and wise.

Sweetest Concord,
Love-impelling,
Tarry, tarry,

Kindly in this sacred dwelling. Far, oh far th' accursed morning, When fell hordes this valley through Shall riot, peace and pity scorning.

When the heaven, Whence the even's blushes parting

Lovely beam,

Shall, with fearful fires updarting

From the towns and villas, gleam.

Dash the mould for me in pieces,
It hath served its purpose well;
Feast the eye till it surceases
With the beauties of the Bell.
Swing the hammer, swing,
'Till the cover spring.
Piecemeal this outer model dies,
Ere the new-born Bell can rise.

The master may with wisest reason
Shatter the mould at fitting season;
But wo, when forth in torrents gushing
Self-loos'd the molten ore comes rushing;
With claps of thunder, blind-vibrating,

The rattling timbers crash about,
As when from hellish jaws escaping
Destruction spits her venom out.
Where might prevaileth, rude and senseless,
All form and shape are left defenceless;
When mobs do burst, what God decreed,
No welfare is the final meed.

Wo, when, in the purlieus hidden,

Silent tinder volume gains,
When mobs, by naught but fury bidden,
Dash to earth their galling chains!
Then the tocsin, deep and lusty,

Re-echoes to the madd'ning shout;
The Bell, to chimes of peace thought trusty,
Now sounds the signal for the rout.

"Freedom, equality." They rally

The peaceful burgher grasps his arms; The streets are full, each square and alleyAssassins prowl in ghastly swarms. Then women to hyenas changing,

Foul bant'ring with the obscene jest, Gnash their teeth and wildly ranging Pant to tear their victim's breast. Pure thoughts are fled, and fiendish passion Hath broken all the bonds of shame; The evil steals from good its fashion,

And vices all untrammell'd reign, The lion growls, when he's awaken, Ravenous is the tiger's fang:

But sadder far to be o'ertaken

With vengeance by a lawless gang. Wo's them, who to such sightless wretches The franchise torch-light e'er would trust— For such it burns not-only catches, And cities wraps in smould'ring dust.

Joy to me my God hath given.

Look! How like a star of gold
Glist'ring from its shell, and even,
The metal granule doth unfold!