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And “Not unworthy of my sires,

Shall be my manhood years !" Said he, in a proud, but ariless tone,

And his mother kissed his brow And said, “ I trust in God that none or thy noble sires in the ages gone,

Had a nobler son than thou!"

All green and ancient were the woods

That grew around their home,
And old and quaint armorial stones

Adorned their stately dome :
And 'mid dark trees, a little church

Its holy form displayed,
Within whose deep and quiet vaults

Their noble dead were laid.
The boy turned up his eager eyes

To his mother, as she told or the proud race from whom he sprung,

And their achievements old.
“My son, the legend of our house,

Is simply Trust in God,'
And none unworthy of such trust,

Within its halls have trod.
The blood of thy heroic line

Has reddened many a field,
And trophies of the fights they won

Are blazoned on thy shield ;
The banners which they bore away,

All soiled and torn and red,
Are mouldering in yon holy pile,

Above the warrior dead;
And many an ancient coat of mail,

And plumed helm and sword,
All proved in some heroic cause,

Within thy home are stored.
Thou bear'st the noble name they bore,

Their blood is in thy veins,
And much thy worthy sires have done,

But more for thee remains.
They shrunk not in the dreadful hour

Of persecution's scathe,
And some 'mid bonds and some 'mid fire,

Maintained their righteous faith.
Thou must not shrink, thou must not fear,

Nor e'er belie their trust,
For God who brought the mighty low,

He raised them from the dust.
And in our dangerous hour of pride,

When honours gird us round,
Alas! the boasted strength of man

Is often weakest found ;
And they who put their trust in heaven,

'Mid darkness and dismay,
Too soon forget the God they sought,

When fear nas passed away.
I ne hour of chiefest danger now

Is nigh — so heaven thee guide!
Prosperity will try thee, boy,

As ne'er thy sires were tried !And oh, unworthy of thy sires,

Not here couldst thou find rest; Thou might'st not stand beneath these trees,

Were thine a guilty breast ;
These ancient walls, yon holy fane,

This green and stately tree,
Couldst thou disgrace thy noble namne,

Would speak reproach to thee!"

THE DEPARTED. " From the woods and the summer fields he is gone,

With his merry laugh and his sunny brow! The garden looks dim and the house is lone,

Where, dearest mother, is he wandering now?" " He is gone in a brighter home to dwell,

With beautiful creatures all love and joy, Where death comes not, and no sad farewell

With its parting tone can his bliss alloy.
He is gone to a happier home than ours,

Beneath the light of more radiant skies,
And his path is bright with more lovely flowers

Than in the sweet summer e'er met thine eyes. “Thou wilt meet him no more in the fields of earth

For the pleasant days of his life are o'er, And the joyful peals of his laughing mirth

Will ring from our evening hearth no more. Thou wilt see him no more as he used to be;

Thou wilt sleep by his side no more at night, Nor with thee again will he bend the knee,

And his evening-prayer with thine unite!" “ Mother, his cheeks are cold and pale,

His eyes are closed, yet he does not sleep, For he wakens not at my earnest call;

Is it death, dear mother,-that rest so deep ?" “My child, his sleep is the sleep of death;

Yet we may not deem it a darkened lot, And his spirit, more pure than the breezes' breath,

May be wandering near, though we know it not! And wish him not back, thou lonely child,

Though we miss his love, and his pleasant voice,Thou wilt soon to thy loss be reconciled,

And again in the summer-woods rejoice. “ He dwells where the fields can never fade,

Where night comes not, nor day is dim; Where the glory of God is the sun, and the shade

Is the shadowing wing of the cherubim. And oh! in yon bright and happy land,

Thou again mayst his sunny beauty see, And hear his voice, ʼmid a joyful band,

From the shades of death as it welcomes thee!"


Again the boy looked in her face,

His bright eyes dimmed with tears,

ONE evening three boys did their father assail,
With “tell us a tale, pa pa, tell us a tale !"
“ A tale ?" said their father, “Oh yes ! you shall see.
That a tale of all tails it this evening shall be;


Is she angry

A tale having reference to all tails whatever, And the handsomest ladies I often have heard, Of air or of ocean, of field or of river!

Give a monstrous price for the tail of this bird ; First the tail of a cat,—now this tail can express Then the sweet bird of Paradise-don't you rememAll passions, all humours, than language no less." ber "Oh, you 're joking, papa,” cried at once all the three, The beautiful creature we saw last November, “ Yours are tails with an i, and not tales with an e!” | With his banner-like tail, that gracefully spread, "Well, well," said their father, “I shall be surprised, And was seen like a glory encircling his head ? If my tails with an i in the end are despised ; Of that of the peacock no word will I say, So, sirs, I 'll proceed: now this tail, as I said, The thing is so common, you see it each day. Expresses what moves her in heart or in head. And now your attention to change I could wish Is she pleased — you know it is quiet, no doubt; To a different tail—even that of a fish;

you know how she wags it about; And no less than the tail of the bird is this made Would she coax you,—she rubs, and she purrs, and with wonderful knowledge the creature to aid. her tail,

”T is his helm, and with it no more could he keep, With her back at right angles, she lifts like a rail; Than a ship without rudder his place in the deep, Then the tail of a dog,—you need hardly be told, And the wisest philosophers all have decided, What tales this same tail of a dog can unfold. That no fitter instrument could be provided. In his joy how he wags it—from turnspit to hound; That the shark, my dear boys, has a tail, without doubt, In his trouble, poor rogue ! how it droops to the ground. From some book or other you 've long since made out; Then the tails of the horse and the cow, need I say! And you know how it puts, without hesitation, What useful and excellent fly-traps are they? The crew of a ship into great consternation, But away! and the hot sandy deserts exploring, When he flaps down his tail on the deck, and no Do you hear how the terrible lion is roaring!

wonder, And see in the thicket his fiery eye flashing, For, like a sledge-hammer, it falleth in thunder; And his furious tail on his tawny sides lashing ! And lest that its force 'gainst the ship should prevail, Yes, he is the king of all beasts, and can send The first thing they do, is to chop off its tail ! Most marvellous power to his very tail's end. Besides there are others,—the monkey's tail; you The same with the tiger -- and so of each kind, Know well what a monkey with his tail can do. The tail is a capital index of mind.

And have we forgotten the beaver ? it yields Then the tail of the rattle-snake-should you not fear The poor, patient creature great help when he builds, Its dry, husky sound in the forest to hear?

”T is the wagon he draws his materials upon, Suppose you were sleeping, the tree-roots your bed, "T is the trowel to finish his work when 't is done. And this terrible monster had crept to your head, Of the fox, too, in Norway, you've heard, without fail, And his tail should awake you,—I 'm sure you 'd be How he angles for crabs with his great bushy tail. glad

And there is the pigtail that gentlemen wore, That a tail with a larum the rattle-snake had. With its various fashions, about half a score. A propos of the snake - you've heard, I dare say, And the great cat-o'-nine tails! that terrible beast, of the wasp and the hornet, and such things as they; Has made itself famous by its tails, at least. Of a venomous weapon they carry about,

And the tail of a comet! that tail, in its strength, And moreover, you all know, I make not a doubt, Extending some thousands of miles in its length, That 't is placed in the tail, which same venomous Is nothing to laugh at; a most awful thing, thing

That could sweep down the world with its terrible The wise of all nations have christened a sting; swing! But the tail of a bird for no mischief is sent, And now since we've conned over bird, beast, and fish, A most scientific, and good instrument,

What greater amusement, my boys, could you wish? Constructed, indeed, on an excellent plan,

But the next time, however, I think we must try Light, flexible too, and spread out like a fan; For some nobler subject than tails with an i: "T is ballast and rudder, which ill he could spare, And so, good night to each one, now this the last line And a buoy to keep up the small creature in air. of the ostrich, the tail is an elegant thing,

And the book and the chapter shall here have their Which is not despised by the mightiest king,



2 A


Miscellaneous Pieces.


He turn'd the helm, and away we sail'd,

Away towards the setting sun: The flying-fish were swift on the wing,

But we outsped each one.


I MADE myself a little boat,

As trim as trim could be, A little boat out of a great pearl shell,

That was found in the Indian sea.

And on we went for seven days,

Seven days without a night; And we follow'd the sun still on and on,

In the glow of his setting light. Down and down went the setting sun,

And down and down went we; "T was a glorious sail for seven days,

On a smooth, descending sea.

“Good friend,” said I to the Nautilus,

“Can this the right course be ? And shall we come again to land ?"

But answer none made he.

I made my masts of wild sea rush,

That grew on a secret shore;
And the scarlet plume of the halcyon-bird,

Was the pleasant flag I bore.
I took for my sails the butterfly's wings,

For my ropes the spider's line;
And that mariner old, the Nautilus,

To steer me over the brine.
For he crossed the sea six thousand years,

And he knew each isle and bay ;
And I thought that we, in my little boat,

Could merrily steer away.
The stores I took were plentiful:

The dew as it sweetly fell ;
And the honey-combs that were hoarded up

In the wild bees' summer cell.

So on we went; but soon I heard

A sound, as when winds blow, And waters wild are tumbled down

Into a gulf below.

"Now steer away, thou helmsman good,

Over the waters free; To the charmed isle of the seven kings,

That lies in the midmost sea!"

And on and on flew the little bark,

As a fiend her course did urge;
And I saw, in a moment, we must hang

Upon the ocean's verge.
I snatch'd down the sails, I snapp'd the ropes,

I broke the masts in twain ;
But on flew the bark, and against the rocks

Like a living thing did strain. “ Thou hast steer'd us wrong, thou helmsman vile !"

Said I to the Nautilus bold, “We shall shoot down the gulf! we're dead men

both! Dost know what a course we hold ?".

He spread the sail, he took the helm;

And long ere ever I wist,
We had sailed a league, we reached the isle

That lay in the golden mist.
The charmed isle of the seven kings,

'Tis a place of wondrous spell ! But all that happ'd unto me there

In a printed book I'll tell. “ Now," said I one day to the Nautilus,

As we stood on the strand, • Unmoor my ship, thou helmsman good, And steer me back to land.

And I seized the helm with a sudden jerk,

And we wheel'd round like a bird ; But I saw the gulf of eternity,

And the lideless waves I heard.

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"For my mother I know sick at heart,

And longs my face to see ;
What ails thee now, thou Nautilus,

Art slow to sail with me?
Up-do my will — the wind is fresh,

To set the vessel free!"

“Good master,” said the Nautilus,

“I thought you might desire, To have some wondrous things to tell,

Beside your mother's fire.
“What's sailing on a summer sea ?

As well sail on a pool !
Oh, but I know a thousand things
That are wild and beautiful!

" And if you please to see them now,

You've but to say the word —" " Have done !" said I to the Nautilus,

" Or I 'll throw thee overboard.
“ Have done !" said I, “ thou mariner old.

And steer me back to land,"
No other word spake the Nautilus,

But took the helm in hand.
I looked up to the lady moon,

She was but like a glow-worm's spark; And never a star shone down to us,

Through the sky, so high and dark. And we had no mast, we had no ropes,

And every sail was rent; And the stores I brought from the charmed isle,

In the seven days' sail were spent.
But the Nautilus was a patient thing,

And he steer'd with all his might
On that up-hill sea, and he never slept,

And he kept the course aright.
And for thrice seven nights we sail'd and saild:

At length I saw the bay Where I built my bark, and my mother's house,

'Mong the green hills where it lay. “ Farewell!" said I to the Nautilus,

As I leapt to the shore : " Thou art a skilful mariner,

But I'll sail with thee no more."

* But the ocean-fields are free to all,

Where'er they list to go,
With the heavens above, and round about,

And the wide, wide sea below.
“Oh! it gladdeneth much my very soul

The smallest ship to see ;
For I know, where'er a sail is spread,

God speaketh audibly.
“ Up to the north,—the polar north,

With the whalers did I go, 'Mong the mountains of eternal ice,

To the land of the thawless snow. “We were hemmed in by icy rocks,

The strength of man was vain;
But at once the arm of God was shown,

The rocks were rent in twain ! “ The sea was parted for Israel,

The great Red Sea, of yore, And Moses, and the Hebrew race,

In joy went, dry-shod, o'er. “ And a miracle as great was wrought

For us in the polar sea, When the rocks were rent, from peak to base,

And our southern course was free! “ Yet, amid those seas so wild and stern,

Where man hath left no trace, The sense of God came down to us,

As in a holy place. “Great kings have piled up pyramids,

And built them temples grand; But the sublimest temple far

Is in yon northern land. “ Its pillars are of the adamant,

By a thousand winters hew'd; Ils priests are the awful silence,

And the ancient solitude !
“ And then we sailed to the tropic seas,

That are like crystal clear;
Thou wilt marvel much, thou little child,

Their glorious things to hear. “I have looked down to those ocean depths

Many thousand fathoms low,
And seen, like woods of mighty oak,

The trees of coral grow'
" The red, the green, and the beautiful

Pale-branch'd like the chrysolite, Which, amid the sun-lit waters, spread

Their flowers intensely bright.
“Some, they were like the lily of June,

Or the rose of Fairy-land,
Or as if some poet's glorious thought

Had inspired a sculptor's hand.
“And then the million creatures bright

That, sporting, went and came ! Heaven knows, but I think in Paradise It must have been the same :


ONCE, when I was a thoughtless child,

I sate beneath a tree,
Beside a little running stream,

And a mariner sate by me ;
And thus he spake:—" For seventy years

I've sail'd upon the sea. “Thou thinkest that the earth is fair,

And full of strange delight; Yon little brook, that murmurs by,

Is glorious in thy sight. “ Thon callest yon poor butterfly

A very marvellous thing, And listen'st, in a fond amaze,

When the morning lark doth sing. “ Thou speak’st as if God only made

Valley, and hill, and tree, Yet I blame thee not, thou simple child!

Wise men have spoke like thee. " But glonous are the ocean-fields,

On land you 're trammell'd round; On the right, and on the left likewise,

Doth lie forbidden ground.

The red rose is the red rose still;

And from the lily's cup An odour, fragrant as at first,

Like frankincense goes up.Oh, Alowers, fair shining flowers,

Like crowned kings ye are ! Each, in the nature of its kind,

Unchanging as a star:-Empires have fallen to decay,

Forgotien e'en in name All man's sublimest works decay,

But ye are still the same!


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« When 'neath the trees that God had set,

The land was free to all;
When the lion gamboll'd with the kid,

The great ones with the small.
“There are no wastes of burning sand,

There's neither heat nor cold;
And there doth spring the diamond mine,

There flow the veins of gold.
“ There, with the divers of the East,

Who down in those depths have been, I've conversed of the marvels strange,

And the glories they had seen. “ And they say, each one, not halls of kings

With the ocean-caves can vie,
With the untrod caves of the carbuncle,

Where the great sea-treasures lie. “ And well I wot it must be so:

Man parteth evermore
The miser-treasures of the earth;

The sea hath all its store, “ Then I've cross'd the line full fifteen times,

And down in the southern sea I've seen the whales, like bounding lambs,

Leap up,—the strong, the free:“Leap up, the creatures that God had made,

To people the isleless main; They have no bridle in their jaws,

And on their necks no rein.
“ But, my little child, thou sittest here,

Still gazing on yon stream,
And the wondrous things that I have told

To thee are as a dream ;-
“ But to me they are as living thoughts,

And well I understand, Why the sublimest sea is still

More glorious than the land :
“For when at first the world awoke

From its primeval sleep;
Not on the land the Spirit of God

Did move, but on the deep!"

Ye flowers — ye little fowers

Were witnesses of things,
More glorious and more wondrous far

Than the fall and rise of kings ! -
Ye, in the vales of Paradise,

Heard how the mountains rang, When the sons of God did shout for joy,

And the stars of morning rang! Ye saw the creatures of the earth,

Ere fear was felt, or pain;
Ye saw the lion with the lamb

Go sporting o'er the plain!
Ye were the first that from the earth

Sprang, when the floods were dried, And the meek dove from out the ark

Went wandering far and wide ;And when upon Mount Ararat

The foating ark was stayed, And the freshness of the flowering earth

The Patriarch first surveyed, Ye saw across the heavens

The new-made bended bow,-
Yo heard the Eternal bind himself,

Upon its glorious show,
That never more the waters wild

Should rage beyond their shore;
That harvest-time and time of seed

Should be for ever more !



On the third day of creation,

Before mankind had birth,
Ten thousand thousand flowers sprang up,

To beautify the earth :
From the rejoicing earth sprang up

Each radiant, bursting bud ;
And God looked down, at eventide,

And saw that they were good.
And now, as then, ten thousand flowers

From the gracious earth outburst,
And every flower that springeth up

Is goodly as at first :

Oh flowers! sweet, goodly nowers !

Ye were loved, in times of old, And better worth were crowns of flowers

Than crowns of beaten gold. They wore ye at the marriage-feast,

When merry pipes were blown ; And, o'er their most beloved dead,

Fit emblems, were ye strewn' - The poets ever loved ye,

For in their souls ye wrought, Like seas, and stars, and mountains old,

Enkindling lofty thought! But greater far than all —

Our blessed Lord did see How beautiful the lilies grew,

In the fields of Galilee:Consider now these fowers, he said, They toil not, neither spin,

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