WOMAN'S LOT. Япоп. OH! say not woman's lot is hard, To speak in tones of gladness, And sooth the brow of sadness. It is not hard, sweet flowers to spread It is not hard, a sister's love To shelter in a father's home, And feel a mother's blessing. It is not hard, when storms arise LIFE. 'WHAT is life?' 'tis a delicate shell, Gone back to its element, grand, Is the billow that brought it on shore: See, another is dashing the strand, And the beautiful shell is no more. THE TEAR. Anon. There is a tear That streaming o'er an object loved and lost, With mournful magic tortures and delights. HYMN OF NATURE. GOD of the earth's extended plains, God of the dark and heavy deep! The waves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm Hath summoned up their thundering bands; God of the forests' solemn shade! When side by side their ranks they form, To weave on high their plumes of green, And fight their battles with the storm. God of the light and viewless air, Where summer breezes sweetly flow, Or, gathering in their angry might, How gloriously above us springs Thy name is written clearly bright In the warm day's unvarying blaze, Or evening's golden shower of light. For every fire that fronts the sun, And every spark that walks alone Around the utmost verge of heaven, Were kindled at thy burning throne. God of the world! The hour must come, And nature's self to dust return; Her crumbling altars must decay, Her incense fires shall cease to burn; But still her grand and lovely scenes Have made man's warmest praises flow; For hearts grow holier as they trace The beauty of the world below. THE TOY OF THE GIANT'S CHILD. An Old Legend versified by B. R. B. Prince Albert. Ir is the lofty Inselsberg-a mountain high and strong, Where once the noble castle stood-the giants held it long; Its very ruins now are lost, its site is waste and lone; And if ye look for giants there, they all are dead and gone. The giant's daughter once came forth, the castle gate before, And played with all a child's delight before her father's door; Then sauntering down the precipice the girl would gladly go, To see perchance how matters went, in the little world below. With few and hasty steps she passed the mountain and the wood, At length approaching near the place where dwelt mankind, she stood; And many a town and village fair, and many a field so green, Before her wondering eyes appeared, a strange and curious scene. |