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Now like smiths at their forges
Worked the red St. George's

Cannoneers;
And the “ villainous saltpetre"
Rung a fierce, discordant metre

Round their ears;
As the swift

Storm-drift,
With hot sweeping anger, came the horse-guard's clangor

On our flanks. Ther: higher, higher, higher burned the old-fashioned fire

Through the ranks !

Then the old-fashioned colonel
Galloped through the white infernal

Powder-cloud;
And his broadsword was swinging,
And his brazen throat was ringing

Trumpet loud.
Then the blue

Bullets flew,
And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden

Rifle-breath; And rounder, rounder, rounder roared the iron six-pounder

Hurling death!

GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER.

Boris.

I sat with Doris, the shepherd maiden;

Her crook was laden with wreathed flowers.
I sat and wooed her through sunlight wheeling,

And shadows stealing for hours and hours.

And she my Doris, whose lap incloses

Wild summer roses of faint perfume,
The while I sued her, kept hushed and hearkened

Till shades had darkened from gloss to gloom.

She touched my shoulder with fearful finger;

She said, “We linger, we must not stay; My flock 's in danger, my sheep will wander;

Behold them yonder, how far they stray!"

I answered bolder, “Nay, let me hear you,

And still be near you, and still adore! No wolf nor stranger will touch one yearling

Ahl stay my darling a moment more!"

She whispered sighing, “There will be sorrow

Beyond to-morrow, if I lose to-day; My fold unguarded, my flock unfolded

I shall be scolded and sent away!”

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Said I replying, “If they do miss you,

They ought to kiss you when you get home; And well rewarded by friend and neighbor

Should be the labor from which you come.”

“They might remember," she answered meekly,

“That lambs are weakly and sheep are wild; But if they love me it 's none so fervent

I am a servant and not a child.”

Then each hot ember glowed quick within nie,

And love did win me to swift reply: “Ahl do but prove me, and none shall bind you,

Nor fray nor find you until I die!”

She blushed and started, and stood awaiting,

As if debating in dreams divine;
But I did brave them --I told her plainly,

She doubted vainly, she must be mine.

So we twin-hearted, from all the valley

Did rouse and rally her nibbling ewes;
And homeward drove them, we two together,

Through blooming heather and gleaming dews That simple duty such grace did lend her,

My Doris tender, my Doris true,
That I her warder did always bless her,

And often press her to take her due.

And now in beauty she fills my dwelling

With love excelling, and undefiled;
And love doth guard her, both fast and fervent,
No more a servant, nor yet a child.

ARTHUR MUNBY.

The Erile to his cuífe.

COME to me, darling, I 'm lonely without thee;
Day-time and night-time I 'm dreaming about thee;
Night-time and day-time in dreams I behold thee,
Unwelcome the waking that ceases to fold thee.
Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten;
Come in thy beauty, to bless and to brighten;
Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly;
Come in thy loveliness, queenly and holy.

Swallows shall flit round the desolate ruin,
Telling of Spring and its joyous renewing;
As thoughts of thy love and its manifest treasure
Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.
O Spring of my heart! O May of my bosom!
Shine out on my soul till it bourgeon and blossom.
The waste of my life has a rose-root within it,
And thy fondness alone to the sunshine can win it.

Figure which moves like a song through the even,
Features lit up with a reflex of heaven,
Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother,
Where sunshine and shadow are chasing each other ;
Smiles coming seldom, but childlike and simple;
And opening their eyes from the heart of a dimple;
0, thanks to the Saviour that even the seeming
Is left to the exile, to brighten his dreaming.

You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened;
Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddened ?
Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love,
As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love;
I cannot smile but your cheeks will be glowing;
You cannot weep but my tears will be flowing;
You will not linger when I shall have died, love;
I could not live without you at my side, love.
Come to me, dear, ere I die of my sorrow;
Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow;
Come swift and strong as the words which I speak, love,
With a song on your lip and a smile on your cheek, love;
Come, for my heart in your absence is dreary;
Haste, for my spirit is sickened and weary;
Come to the arms which alone shall caress thee;
Come to the heart that is throbbing to press thee.

JOSEPH BRENAN.

Rock me to Sleep.

BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forhead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of

my
hair

r;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep ;-
Rock me to sleep, mother-rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,–
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,-
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,-
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap ;-
Rock me to sleep, mother, -rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between;
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again;
Come from the silence so long and so deep;-
Rock me to sleep, mother,-rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours;
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain :
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep ;-
Rock me to sleep, mother,-rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;-
Rock me to sleep, mother, -rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song;
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream;
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;
Rock me to sleep, mother,-rock me to sleep!

ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.

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