ELLISLAND.

THE year was in its prime, for June
Was treading on the heels of May;
The sun was climbing to high noon,

The breezes faint made sportive play,
When by the winding Nith we strayed

With pilgrim feet, that we might stand Where, 'neath the humble rooftree's shade, Oft sung the Bard of Ellisland.

We saw the lassie buskit neat,

The bonnie lassie herding yowes,
And heard the sporting lambkins bleat
Among the yellow broomy knowes;
The ploughman whistling at the plough,
He guided straight wi' tenty hand,
Where rigs lay red, along the howe,
The fertile howe of Ellisland.

We gazed adown Dalswinton's plain,
Across her glowing woods and braes;
And lilted o'er again some strain,

Through which he chanted forth their praise. We watched the shadows come and go

Where high the hills in grandeur stand, And fleecy clouds were drifting slow Across the blue o'er Ellisland.

We listened as from leafy dell

The feathered chorus rung out clear, And from the sky there warbling fell The trill of lark upon our ear: And as we heard the mingling strain, We wished that some magician's wand Might yet be waved, to bring again The poet soul to Ellisland.

We marked the daisy loved so dear,

The thistle springing 'mong the corn, The op'ning rosebud on the brier,

The lingering primrose 'neath the thorn; We marked them all with loving eye,

Yet plucked them not with ruthless hand, But left them there, to bloom and die, Upon the holms of Ellisland.

To know his voice amid a hundred round,
And feel thy beating heart respond the sound.

To lean confiding on his arm, and know,
If danger threatens, 'twill avert the blow;
To listen for his footsteps, and to hear
Thy own heart beat with love, and doubt, and
fear;

To hear at last his step, and rise to greet
The one thy heart yearns fondly thus to meet;
To think of him when absent, and to pray
For grace to guide him on his per❜lous way.

To hear him praised for deeds of goodness done;

To see him envied, and to know thou'st won
His pure fond love, and that whate'er betide,
In weal or woe, thy place is by his side;
To love him better in misfortune's hour
Than in his youthful prime, his day of power;
To feel, though fortune frown, though friends
forsake,

Though sorrows overwhelm, thou for his sake
Canst smile at fate, and cheer and bless his

lot

"The world forgetting, by the world forgot." Though sickness bows the form, and dims the

eye

Whose glance controlled thy youthful destiny; Though pain may chafe that spirit e'en to vent On thee a murmur of its discontent,

Yet o'er his couch wilt thou unwearied bend, And soothe and bless, though pangs thy bosom rend;

To see him suffer, and to feel and know
That e'en thy love cannot avert the blow.

To watch the livelong night, and weep and pray

For him, the loved one, till the dawn of day;
To see the wasted form, the sunken eye
Still gazing on thee, though imploringly;
To press thy lips upon the pallid brow,
And try to smile, lest grief thy fears avow;
To catch from lips so loved the last faint
breath,

Then, shrinking, own the bitterness of death!
Chambers' Journal.
M. A. L.

SUPPOSING there had been two brothers, twin At birth, who grew like young plants in the

sun

To youth, but one died, and the other one Living fell lower every day in sin, Betraying his own heart, yet kept therein, When all things else were lost and he undone, Love of the dead strong and unstain'd alone; Which thing avail'd of pitying gods to win This boon, Eneas-like to pass the gate,

Living, of Death, and in the fields of Hell And groves to nether Juno consecrate, To meet the luckless shade of the boy; but he Turn'd his pale face away in loathing, Even so it is with my old self and me.

well,

Athenæum.