Mary then, and gentle Anne,
Both to reign at once began;
Alternately they swayed,
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Anne the crown die wear,
And sometimes both I obeyed.

Another Mary then arose,
Who did rigorous laws impose,
A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-sceptered queen,

Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me,

But soon those pleasures fled;
For the gracious princess died,
In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reigned in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour Judith held the sovereign power:

Wondrous beautiful her face,
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,

And so Susannah took her place.
But when Isabella came,
Armed with a resistless flame;

By the artillery of her eye,
Whilst she proudly marched about,
Greater conquests to find out,

She beat out Susan, by-the-bye.

But in her place I then obeyed
Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy-maid,
To whom ensued a vacancy.
Thousand worse passions then possessed
The interregnum of my breast—
Bless me from such an anarchy !

Gentle Henrietta then,
And a third Mary next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria,
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Catherine,

And then a long et cetera.
But should I now to you relate,
The strength and riches of their state,

The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribands, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,
That make up all their magazines.
If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts,

The letters, embassies, and spies,
The frowns, the smiles, and flatteries,
The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,

Numberless, nameless mysteries!
And all the little lime-twigs laid
By Machiavel the waiting-maid;

I more voluminous should grow,
Chiefly if I, like them, should tell
All change of weather that befell,

Than Holinshed or Stow.

But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me:
A higher and nobler strain
My present empress doth claim,
Heleonora, first o' the name,

Whom God grant long to reign!

THE SWORD SONG.

THEODORE KÖRNER.

[Theodore Körner, the eminent German poet, was born at Dresden in 1791. After studying at Leipsic he became secretary

to the Court Theatre of Vienna, and commenced as a dramatist. In 1812 he entered the Prussian army and signalized himself equally by his bravery and his martial songs. For his conduct at the battle at Lützen he was promoted, and afterwards, having been twice wounded, was made a lieutenant. He was killed in a skirmish with the French at Mecklenburg, August 26th, 1813. His lyrical poems were published after his death under the appropriate title of "The Lyre and the Sword," and his dramas, poems, and literary remains have since been published in Germany. Many of his writings have been translated into English and met with due appreciation.]

THOU Sword upon my belted vest,

What means thy glittering polished crest!
Thou seem'st within my glowing breast
To raise a flame-Hurrah!
"A Horseman brave supports my blade,
The weapon of a freeman made;
For him I shine, for him I'll wade

Through blood and death-Hurrah!"
Yes, my good sword, behold me free,
I fond affection bear to thee.

As though thou wert betrothed to me
My earliest bride-Hurrah!
"Soldier of Fortune, I am thine,
For thee alone my blade shall shine-
When, Soldier, shall I call thee mine,
Joined in the field-Hurrah!"
Soon as our bridal morn shall rise,
While the shrill trumpet's summons flies,
And the red cannon rends the skies,

We'll join our hands-Hurrah!
"O sacred union !-haste away,
Ye tardy moments of delay-
I long, my bridegroom, for the day
To be thy bride-Hurrah!"
Why cling'st thou in the scabbard-why?
Thou iron fair of destiny,

So wild-so fond of battle-cry,

Why cling'st thou so-Hurrah!

"I hold myself in dread reserve,
Fierce-fond in battle-fields to serve,
The cause of freedom to preserve-
For this I wait-Hurrah!"

Rest-still in narow compass rest―
Ere a long space thou shalt be blest,
Within
my ardent grasp comprest—
Ready for fight-Hurrah!

"Oh let me not too long await-
I love the gory field of fate,
Where death's rich roses glow elate
In bloody bloom-Hurrah!"
Come forth! quick from thy scabbard fly,
Thou pleasure of the Soldier's eye-
Now to the scene of slaughter hie,
Thy native home-Hurrah!

"O glorious thus in nuptial tie,
To join beneath heaven's canopy—
Bright as a sunbeam of the sky,

Glitters your bride-Hurrah!" Then out, thou messenger of strife, Thou German soldier's plighted wife--Who feels not renovated life

When clasping thee?-Hurrah! When in thy scabbard on my side, I seldom glanced on thee, my bride; Now Heaven has bid us ne'er divide, For ever joined-Hurrah! Thee glowing to my lips I'll press, And all my ardent vows confess— O cursed be he, without redress,

Who thee forsakes-Hurrah!

Let joy sit in thy polished eyes,
While radiant sparkles flashing rise-
Our marriage day dawns in the skies,
My Bride of Steel-Hurrah!

ELIZA'S ESCAPE.

MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.

MR. Shelby, a planter, in Kentucky, having sold his slave, Eliza Harris, to Haley, a slave-dealer, Eliza contrives during the night to escape with her infant child.

Shelby, having taken the money for his slave, feels bound to render what assistance he can to his customer; he, therefore, mounts two of his "niggers" on fleet horses to assist him in her re-capture.

Mrs. Shelby is desirous that every obstacle shall be thrown in the way of the pursuit, to give Eliza time, and in this laudable object she is assisted by Sam and Andy, the two "niggers" referred to. The scene, which is one of the most exciting in Mrs. Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin," opens in the morning, after breakfast, after the discovery of the escape, and continues:

Mr. and Mrs. Shelby both felt annoyed and degraded by the familiar impudence of the trader, and yet both saw the absolute necessity of putting a constraint on their feelings. The more hopelessly sordid and insensible he appeared, the greater became Mrs. Shelby's dread of his succeeding in re-capturing Eliza and her child, and of course the greater her motive for detaining him by every female artifice. She, therefore, graciously smiled, assented, chatted familiarly, and did all she could to make time pass imperceptibly.

At two o'clock, Sam and Andy brought the horses up to the posts, apparently greatly refreshed and invigorated by the scamper of the morning.

Sam was there new oiled from dinner, with an abundance of zealous and ready officiousness. As Haley approached, he was boasting, in flourishing style, to Andy, of the evident and eminent success of the operation, now that he had "fairly come to it."

"Your master, I s'pose, don't keep no dogs?" said Haley, thoughtfully, as he prepared to mount.