was heard.


Some - and they were not few — knelt down. All were sincere and truthful in their sorrow.

The service done, the mourners stood apart, and the villagers closed round to look into the grave before the pave5 ment-stone should be replaced. One called to mind how

he had seen her sitting on that very spot, and how her book had fallen on her lap, and she was gazing with a pensive face upon the sky. Another told how he had wondered much that one so delicate as she should be so bold, how 10 she had never feared to enter the church alone at night,

but had loved to linger there when all was quiet, and even to climb the tower stair, with no more light than that of the moon's rays stealing through the loopholes in the thick, old wall.


A whisper went about among the oldest there, that she had seen and talked with angels; and when they called to mind how she had looked, and spoken, and her early death, some thought it might be so indeed. Thus coming to the grave in little knots, and glancing down, and giving 20 place to others, and falling off in whispering groups of three or four, the church was cleared, in time, of all but the sexton and the mourning friends.

They saw the vault covered and the stone fixed down. Then, when the dusk of evening had come on, and not a 25 sound disturbed the sacred stillness of the place, - when the bright moon poured in her light on tomb and monument, on pillar, wall, and arch, and most of all, (it seemed to them,) upon her quiet grave, in that calm time, when all outward things and inward thoughts teem with assur30 ances of immortality, and worldly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust before them, then, with tranquil and submissive hearts, they turned away, and left the child with God.

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[HORACE SMITH, a native of London, died in July, 1849, in the seventieth year of his age. In 1812, in conjunction with his elder brother, James Smith, he published a volume called "Rejected Addresses," consisting of imitations of the popular poets of the day. It had great and deserved success, and has since been frequently reprinted. Horace Smith was a stock broker by profession; but in the leisure hours stolen from his employment, he wrote a number of works of fiction, which were received with favor, and many contributions, both in verse and prose, to the magazines of the time. His poems have been collected and published in two volumes. He was a very ainiable and estimable man.]


AND thou hast walked about (how strange a story!)
In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium † was in all its glory,

And time had not begun to overthrow
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous,
Of which the very ruins are tremendous.

2 Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy; Thou hast a tongue – come, let us hear its tune; Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy, Revisiting the glimpses of the moon;

Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures,

But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features.

3 Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollect

To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame?
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect

Of either pyramid that bears his name? §

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*Thebes was a celebrated city of Upper Egypt, of which extensive ruins still remain.

†The Memnonium was a building combining the properties of a palace and a temple, the ruins of which are remarkable for symmetry of architecture and elegance of sculpture.

The great sphinx, at the pyramids, is hewn out of a rock, in the form of a lion with a human head, and is one hundred and forty-three feet in length, and sixty-two feet in height in front.

§ The pyramids are well-known structures near Cairo. According to Herodotus, the great pyramid, so called, was built by Cheops, (pronounced Kē'ops). He was succeeded by his brother Cephren, (pronounced Se/fren,) or Cephrenes, (pronounced Se-fre'něz,) who, according to the same historian, built another of the pyramids.

Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? *
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer?

4 Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden
By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade;
Then say what secret melody was hidden

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played.†
Perhaps thou wert a priest; if so, my struggles
Are vain; Egyptian priest ne'er owned his juggles.

5 Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,

Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass:
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat;

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass;
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,

A torch at the great temple's dedication.


I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed,
Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled;
For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled:·
Antiquity appears to have begun

Long after thy primeval race was run.

7 Since first thy form was in this box extended,

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We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations;

The Roman empire has begun and ended;

New worlds have risen- we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.

8 Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,

* Pompey's Pillar is a column almost a hundred feet high, near Alexandria. It is now generally admitted by the learned to have had no connection with the Roman general whose name it bears.

This was a statue at Thebes, said to utter at sunrise a sound like the wanging of a harpstring or of a metallic wire,


Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,*
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, †

And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?


If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold: -
A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast,

And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled:
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face?
What were thy name and station, age and race?

Statue of flesh- immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence!
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.

11 Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost forever?
O, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure

In living virtue; that when both must sever
Although corruption may our frame consume,
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom.

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FLING forth the proud banner of Leon again;

Let the watchword, Castile, go resounding through Spain !
And thou, free Asturias, encamped on the height,
Pour down thy dark sons to the vintage of fight;

*Egypt was conquered 525 B. C., by Cambyses, the second king of Persia. †These are the names of Egyptian deities.

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Wake! wake! the old soil where our warriors repose,
Rings hollow and deep to the trampling of foes.
The voices are mighty that swell from the past,
With Aragon's cry on the shrill mountain blast;
5 The ancient Sierras give strength to our tread,

Their pines murmur song where bright blood hath been shed.
Fling forth the proud banner of Leon again,

And shout ye, "Castile! to the rescue for Spain!"




1 WHAT's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod

By man, the image of his God,

Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod
To bow the knee?

2 Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right?
He's dead alone that lacks her light!
And murder sullies in Heaven's sight
The sword he draws:

What can alone ennoble fight?
A noble cause!

3 Give that! and welcome War to brace
Her drums! and rend Heaven's reeking space!
The colors planted face to face,

The charging cheer,

Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase,
Shall still be dear.

4 And place our trophies where men kneel To Heaven! but Heaven rebukes my zeal.

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