There was racing and chasing on Cannobie lea; But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye ere heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

Scott.

WHEN THE WORLD IS BURNING.

(STANZAS FOR MUSIC.)

W

HEN the world is burning,

Fired within, yet turning
Round with face unscathed-
Ere fierce flames, uprushing,
O'er all lands leap, crushing,

Till earth fall, fire-swathed;
Up amidst the meadows,
Gently through the shadows,

Gentle flames will glide,
Small and blue and golden :
Though by bard beholden
When in calm dreams folden,

Calm his dreams will bide.

Where the dance is sweeping,
Through the greensward peeping

Shall the soft lights start;
Laughing maids, unstaying,
Deeming it trick-playing,
High their robes upswaying,

O'er the lights shall dart;
And the woodland haunter
Shall not cease to saunter

When, far down some glade,
Of the great world's burning
One soft flame upturning,
Seems, to his discerning,
Crocus in the shade.

EBENEZER JONES.

MAY AND DEATH.

I

WISH that when you died last May,

Charles, there had died along with you Three parts of Spring's delightful things ;

Aye, and for me, the fourth part too.

A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps !

There must be many a pair of friends Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm

Moon's birth, and the long evening-ends.

So, for their sake, prove May still May !

Let their new time, like mine of old, Do all it did for me; I bid

Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold.

Only, one little sight, one plant

Woods have in May, that starts up green Except a streak, which, so to speak

Is Spring's blood, spilt its leaves between,

That, they might spare: a certain wood

Might lose the plant; their loss were small : And I,—whene'er the plant is there Its drop comes from my heart, that's all.

ROBERT BROWNING. LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR.

I

ARISE from dreams of thee,
In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my

feet
Hath led me—who knows how ?
To thy chamber window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream ;

And the champak odours pine
Like sweet thoughts in a dream ;
The nightingale's complaint
It dies upon her heart;

As I must die on thine,
Oh! Beloved as thou art.

O lift me from the grass !
I die, I faint, I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas,
My heart beats loud and fast;

O press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last.

SHELLEY.

THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.

F

TULL knee-deep lies the winter snow,

And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll

ye

the church-bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.

Old year, you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.

He lieth still: he doth not move:

He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true true love,
And the New Year will take 'em away.

Old year, you must not go ;
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you

shall not go.

He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;

A jollier year we shall not see.
But though his eyes are waxing dim,
He was a friend to me.

Old year, you shall not die ;
We did so laugh and cry

with

you, I've half a mind to die with you,

if you must die.

Old year,

He was full of joke and jest,

But all his merry quips are o'er,
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.

Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the new year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes ! over the snow

I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps : the light burns low :
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.
Shake hands, before you

die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before

you

die.

Close up

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone.

his

eyes: tie up his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone,

And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.

TENNYSON.