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By Cherical's dark wandering streams,

Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild, Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams

Of Teviot loved while still a child,

Of castled rocks stupendous piled By Esk or Eden's classic wave,

Where loves of youth and friendship siniled, Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave!

Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade!

The perished bliss of youth's first prime, That once so bright on fancy played,

Revives no more in after-time.

Far from my sacred natal clime, I haste to an untimely grave;

The daring thoughts that soared sublime Are sunk in ocean's southern wave.

Slave of the mine, thy yellow light

Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear. A gentle vision comes by night

My lonely widowed heart to cheer:

Her eyes are dim with many a tear, That once were guiding stars to mine:

Her fond heart throbs with many a fear! I cannot bear to see thee shine.

For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave,

I left a heart that loved me true! I crossed the tedious ocean-wave,

To roam in climes unkind and new.

The cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my withered heart; the grave

Dark and untimely met my view,And all for thee, vile yellow slave!

Hal com'st thou now so late to mock

A wanderer's banished heart forlorn,

Now that his frame the lightning shock

Of sun-rays tipped with death has borze ?

From love, from friendship, country, torn,
To memory's fond regrets the prey,

Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn!
Go mix thee with thy kindred clay!

JOHN LEYDEN.

A Visit from St. Nicholas.

sprang from

'T was the night before Christmas, when all through the

house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I

my

bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the.sash. The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below; When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: 'Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and BlixenTo the top of the porch, to the top of the wall ! Now, dash

all I" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

away,
dash
away,
dash
away

19

So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys—and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes how they twinkle ! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump-a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

CLEMENT C. MOORE.

a

a

The Star-Spangled Banner.

O, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam-

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous

fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly stream

ing; And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

O, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses ? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream.

'T is the star-spangled banner! O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution
No refuge could save the hireling and slave,
From the terror of death and the gloom of the grave.

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

0, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation; Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that has made and preserved us a na.

tion.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, “In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

FRANCIS Scott KEY.

Lucy's Flittin'.

'T was when the wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in',

And Martinmas dowie had wound up the year, That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in 't

And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear. For Lucy had served in “The Glen” a' the simmer;

She cam' there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her,

Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her ee.

She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stannin',

Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see: Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! quo Jamie, and ran in;

The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his ee. As down the burn-side she gaed slow wi' the flittin',

Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! was ilka bird's sang; She heard the craw sayin' 't, high on the tree sittin',

And robin was chirpin' 't the brown leaves amang.

Oh, what is 't that pits my puir heart in a flutter?

And what gars the tears come sae fast to my ee? If I wasna ettled to be ony better,

Then what gars me wish ony better to be? I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither;

Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see; I fear I ha'e tint my puir heart a'thegither,

Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee.

Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon,

The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie ga'e me; Yestreen, when he ga'e me 't, and saw I was sabbin',

I 'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy!

It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see; He cudna say mair but just, Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee.

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