Thus gazed all Heaven in strange delight, to see Hail to thee, dark-eyed! honey-tongued, all hail! HYMN TO MARS. MARS, the strong one, mighty soul'd, Shielded champion, staunch of hand, Borne by coursers redly burning Round the third bright ring of Heaven. Hear me thou! man's fast ally, Giver of youth with courage rife, The beam that long may cheer my life— Thus with a quiet strength of heart Who would have thought it? Coffee! Peter's tread is soft as "the pard's velvet foot on Libyan sands," or a cat's on a Turkey carpet. He must have come and gone like a ghost in our old English theatres, "in an invisible garment." A few more spoonfuls of sugar-candy and an additional dash of cream. Madam, you are getting stingy, and may end in a Duchatel! A thimbleful of cogniac would give point to this cup-and eke to yours-there that's a good old girl-Now let us TRY EUTERPE.-The goddess is in her gait! Would that the General had never seen her face! Had we not gone to Jerusalem-forty years ago she would have been ours! Sit close, and we shall sing thee a song-byby-ALFRED DOMETT-a new name to our old ears-but he has the prime virtue of a song-writer-a heart. Let's hold the leaf together-so; sweetest, you have a palm like Ophelia's but we have too deep a sense of honour to act like Hamlet. He was a cruel man. Take the second our voice you know is a soprano GLEE FOR WINTER. HENCE, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow, Never merry, never mellow! What will kill this dull old fellow? Ale that's bright, and wine that's mellow! Dear old songs for ever new- Till we make the old house ring! Let us swear by all that's kindly, All the ties of old and young, We will always know each other As we've known each other long! By the house we oft have shaken (House where most of us were born), When the dance grew wild and romping, And we kept it up till morn! By the old convivial table Where we oft have mustered strong, By the glasses we have emptied To each other's health so long! By our school-boy freaks together, In old days with mischief rifeFellowship, when youth on pleasure Flung away redundant life! By bereavements, mourned in com mon By the hopes, a fluttering throng, We have felt when home returning, Parted from each other long! "Then marvel not my bosom glow'd "But vain-as in the illustrious hour His victories that seal'd, When Europe's fate did darkly lower Unharm'd amid the fiery shower, Her 'venger and her shield, "He stood serene-still shall he stand, By civil broils unmoved, The light, the safeguard of the land 'Gainst foreign foe, or trait'rous band, In peace, in war, approved. "So let his fame all nations spread, All hearts his praise avow, Bring laurels for his glorious head, And bid the immortal amarynths shed, Their honours on his brow." Meek spirit mine! and gentlest of the Gentiles! to thee in every walk of life the good and the great are dear; but well we know that thou lovest best the paths of peace, and, soul-sickened, recoilest from the shouts of victory that rend" the war-clouds rolling dun" over fields of blood. "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace!" These words from thy lips how often have they "sank like music in my heart!" They call thee a Methodist, Mary! Who? The inane-and worse than the inane, the inflated with this world's vanities; and true it is that Method reigns with soft and noiseless sway -over thy mien, thy manners, and thy mind-regular and ordered thy mild domestic movements all-as those of that star-we have named from thee at home in heaven, whether shining by itself alone, or in galaxy conspicuous still by its own peculiar light! Something sad there ever is in the most lustrous imagery of Night; but thou art joyful, too, as the day, and then the beauty of holiness shows in thee like the Sun glorifying the clouds. The clouds of Life! Here are two sonnets-written in a fair and staid hand-not unlike thine own-only a little rounder-and we should guess the author to be a clergyman-and one who for not a few years has ministered at the altar. They are tender and solemn; and flow purely from a religious spirit. Yet a layma he may be there are many such in tian, and its character given by the England-for their education is Chris church. WHEN every vernal hope and joy decays, BARLEY WOOD. A voice in vision-haunted Gibeon came: Withal thou hast not sought thee wealth and fame." O'er hill, wood, ocean, and green valley, where Rose, central, the heaven-pointing church-tower gray! How it howls! That was a very avalanche. Worse weather than Christmas week, though that was wild, and the snow-winds preached charity to all who had roofs overhead-towards the houseless and them who huddle round hearths where the fire is dying or dead. Those blankets must have been a Godsend indeed to not a few families, and your plan is preferable to a Fancy-Fair. Yet that is good too-nor do we find fault with them who dance for the Destitute. We sanction amusements that give relief to misery-and the wealthy may waltz unblamed for behoof of the poor. Two minutes and 'twill be Sabbath morning. How serene the face of that TimePiece! and how expressive! chair comes at one the fire is low, but bright-read you now, beloved friend, and there is true piety as well as true poetry in this "Christmas Your Hymn." 'Tis by the same gentleman whose merry songs we chanted an hour ago. The most cheerful are often the most religious-a wise mirth observes due place and season-and the eyes that smile brightest are often the most ready to be filled with tears. A CHRISTMAS HYMN, Ir was the calm and silent night!— Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was Queen of land and sea! No sound was heard of clashing wars- main : |