"Oh, give me beauty for my prize!"
A hidden furnace seemed to glow

Within the second maiden's breast.
She heard the stirring trumpet blow,
She saw the warrior's plume and crest;
Ambition dazzled in her eyes

That life's reward-a deathless name,
Then from her heart came stifled cries:
"If I may live, oh! give me fame."
The third fair maiden knelt apart;
Her eyes-
-a heaven starr'd with tears,
Her white arms folded on her heart,
She faced a mystery of years.
A sudden rapture seemed to lift
Her very soul to heav'n above:

"Be mine," she pray'd, "this priceless gift:
"Let me be loved by one I love!"

CLEMENT SCOTT.

A QUEEN'S DEFENCE.

WINTER'S TALE.. -Act III.-Scene 2.

Officer; "Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband; the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night."

Hermione. Since what I am to say, must be but that Which contradicts my accusation; and

The testimony on my part, no other

But what comes from myself: it shall scarce boot me To say, Not guilty; mine integrity

Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so received. But thus,-If powers divine
Behold our human actions as they do,

I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny

Tremble at patience.-You, my lord, best know
(Who least will seem to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devised,
And play'd, to take spectators: For behold me,
A moiety of the king, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing,
To prate and talk for life, and honor, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honor,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor, or in act or will
That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, Fie upon my grave!

SHAKESPEARE.

SOMEBODY'S MOTHER.

The woman was old, and ragged and gray,
And bent with the chill of a winter's day;
The streets were white with a recent snow,
And the woman's feet with age were slow.
At the crowded crossing she waited long,
Jostled aside by the careless throng
Of human beings who passed her by,
Unheeding the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of "school is out,"
Came happy boys, like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep;
Past the woman, so old and gray,
Hasten the children on their way.

None offered a helping hand to her,
So weak and timid, afraid to stir,

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should trample her down in the slippery street.
At last came out of the merry troop
The gayest boy of all the group;

He paused beside her, and whispered low,
“I'll help you across, if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so without hurt or harm,
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were young and strong;
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.

"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged, and poor and slow;
And some one, some time, may lend a hand
To help my mother--you understand?—
If ever she's poor, and old and grey,
And her own dear boy so far away.'

"Somebody's mother bowed low her head,
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was: "God be kind to that noble boy,
Who is somebody's son and pride and joy."

Faint was the voice, and worn and weak,
But heaven lists when its chosen speak;
Angels caught the faltering word,

And "Somebody's Mother's" prayer was heard.

MARY D. BRINE.

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES.

The Christmas bells across the snow
Are ringing out good-will to men;
Away the merry skaters go

Across the fields, along the fen;
God's wind of peace and love has blown
The clouds from sorrow-stricken skies:
Yet, I am sitting here alone

With my old Christmas Memories!

Cease Christmas chime! that wildly rings
The knell of man's delayed desire!
She at the piano touch'd the strings,
Whilst I sat dreaming by the fire.
'Tis mystical when souls entwine,

When sympathetic longings blend-
She came, and placed her hand in mine,
And then she whispered, "Be my friend!"

Who could that longing look resist!
The blue of those Madonna eyes;
The hair-the parted lips unkist ;
The depth of all her broken sighs?
I took her hand-nor seemed to trace
A storm on such a summer sea.
Oh, God! I see her haunting face
That pleaded, "Be a friend to me!"

One night the books were cast aside,
The poem hush'd that I had read,
We only heard the wind outside,

The firelight touch'd her golden head.
We were alone! none other! none!

Have mercy on me, God above!

She weeping, said: "What have you done?
This is not friendship; it is love!

Yes it was love, untamed and wild

That through our hearts and pulses ran, The first affection of a child,

The last great passion of a man! No love like this was ever born

To touch my tears, to cloud my sight;
She was my waking thought at morn,
She was my parting prayer at night.

Yes! it was love, so pure, that I
Can feel it dim my eyelids yet:
It made our spring a memory,
Our summer one profound regret ;
We only met to love the more

Beneath the blossom-covered tree,
We loved in silence on the shore,

And speechless, looking out to sea!
Cold Christmas chimes! why ceaseless ring,
Across the snow, your endless knell;
It whispers of remembered spring
And tolls for our supreme farewell?
Oh! wingéd love! for love is wild
And has been since the world began,
It bears away the loving child

And leaves alone the thinking man!

So, merry skaters, hand in hand,
Laugh on until the sun has set;
Together you will find love's land,
Then dream together-and forget.
Away! you lovers! off you go

Across the fields, along the fen;
For Christmas bells, above the snow,
Are ringing out good will to men!

-L' Envoi!

But when you see old friends depart
And find that love is sweet-but dies;
Pray God that all your life and heart
Be free from Christmas memories!

CLEMENT SCOTT.