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It stands in the Comitium,

Plain for all folk to see, Horatius in his harness,

Halting upon one knee ;
And underneath is written,

In letters all of gold,
How valiantly he kept the bridge

In the brave days of old.

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And in the nights of winter,

When the cold north winds blow, And the loud howling of the wolves

Is heard amidst the snow ; When round the lonely cottage

Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus 2

Roar louder yet within.

When the oldest cask is open'd,

And the largest lamp is lit, When the chestnuts glow in the embers,

And the kid turns on the spit ; When young

and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets,

And the lads are shaping bows ;

When the goodman mends his armour,

And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily

Goes flashing through the loom ;

| The hall in the Forum in which the assemblies of the people were held, for electing magistrates and all the public officers. The three beautiful columns, usually called those of the Temple of Jupiter Stator, are now considered to have been part of the Comitium.

2 A mountain near Rome.

With weeping and with laughter

Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

MACAULAY.

A MOTHER'S LOVE.

A MOTHER'S Love, — how sweet the name !

What is a Mother's Love?
A noble, pure, and tender flame,

Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mould ;
The warmest love that can grow cold ;

This is a Mother's Love.

To bring a helpless babe to light,

Then, while it lies forlorn,
To gaze upon that dearest sight,

And feel herself new-born ;
In its existence lose her own,
And live and breathe in it alone;

This is a Mother's Love.

Its weakness in her arms to bear ;

To cherish on her breast,
Feed it from love's own fountain there,

And lull it there to rest;
Then while it slumbers watch its breath,
As if to guard from instant death ;

This is a Mother's Love.

To mark its growth from day to day,

Its opening charms admire, Catch from its eye the earliest ray

Of intellectual fire:

To smile and listen while it talks,
And lend a finger when it walks ;

This is a Mother's Love.

And can a Mother's Love

grow

cold?
Can she forget her boy?
His pleading innocence behold,

Nor weep for grief —for joy?
A mother may forget her child
While wolves devour it on the wild;

Is this a Mother's Love ?

Ten thousand voices answer “No!”

Ye clasp your babes, and kiss : Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o’erflow;

Yet ah! remember this : The infant, rear'd alone for earth, May live, may die, — to curse his birth;

Is this a Mother's Love?

A parent's heart may prove a snare;

The child she loves so well, Her hand may lead, with gentlest care,

Down the smooth road to hell : Nourish its frame destroy its mind ; Thus do the blind mislead the blind,

Ev’n with a Mother's Love.

Blest infant! whom his mother taught

Early to seek the Lord, And pour'd upon his dawning thought

The day-spring of the Word; This was the lesson to her son, Time is eternity begun :

Behold that Mother's Love. I

1 2 Tim. 1. 5., iii. 14, 15.

Blest Mother! who, in wisdom's path,

By her own parent trod,
Thus taught her son to flee the wrath,

And know the fear, of God!
Ah! youth, like him enjoy your prime,
Begin eternity in time,

Taught by that Mother's Love.

That Mother's Love ! - how sweet the name!

What was that Mother's Love?
The noblest, purest, tenderest flame,

That kindles from above,
Within a heart of earthly mould,
As much of heaven as heart can hold,
Nor through eternity grows cold :
This was that Mother's Love !

J. MONTGOMERY.

SONG OF THE STARS.

WHEN the radiant morn of creation broke,
And the world in the smile of God awoke,
And the empty realms of darkness and death
Were mov'd through their depths by his mighty

breath;
And orbs of beauty and spheres of flame
From the void abyss by myriads came,
In the joy of youth as they darted away,
Through the widening wastes of space to play,
Their silver voices in chorus rung,
And this was the song the bright ones sung:
Away, away, through the wide, wide sky,
The fair blue fields that before us lie, -

Each sun with the worlds that round him roll,
Each planet, pois'd on her turning pole;
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white,
And her waters that lie like fluid light.

“For the Source of glory uncovers his face,
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space;
And we drink as we go the luminous tides
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides :
Lo, yonder the living splendours play ;
Away, on our joyous path, away!

“Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar, In the infinite azure, star after star, How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly

pass! How the verdure runs o’er each rolling mass ! And the path of the gentle winds is seen, Where the small waves dance, and the young

woods lean.

“ And see where the brighter day-beams pour, How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower; And the morn and eve, with their pomp of hues, Shift o'er the bright planets and shed their dews; And 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground, With her shadowy cone the night goes round !

“ Away, away ! in our blossoming bowers,
In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours,
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn,
See, Love is brooding, and Life is born,
And breathing myriads are breaking from night,
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light.

“Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres, To weave the dance that measures the years ;

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