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THE ARCTIC HUNTSMAN.
GONE is the long, long winter night,
Look, my beloved one! How glorious, through his depths of light,
Rolls the majestic sun ! The willows, wak'd from winter's death, Give out a fragrance like thy breath
The summer is begun!
Ay, 'tis the long bright summer day:
Hark, to that mighty crash!
The smitten waters flash.
The foamy torrents dash.
See, love, my boat is moord for thee,
By ocean's weedy floor.
More swiftly than my oar.
Beside the pebbly shore.
Or, bide thou where the poppy blows,
With wind-flowers frail and fair, While I, upon his isle of snows,
Seek and defy the bear. Fierce though he be, and huge of frame, This arm his savage strength shall tame,
And drag him from his lair.
When crimson sky and flamy cloud
Bespeak the summer o'er,
Of snows that melt no more,
And spread with skins the floor.
And, from the frozen skies,
meanwhile Shall hear thy voice and see thy smile, Till that long midnight flies.
THE MOTHER AND CHILD.
HER by her smile how soon the Stranger knows;
But soon a nobler task demands her care, Apart she joins his little hands in prayer, Telling of Him who sees in secret there! And now the volume on her knee has caught His wandering eye
now many a written thought Never to die, with many a lisping sweet His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat.
Releas'd, he chases the bright butterfly; Oh he would follow follow through the sky! Climbs the gaunt mastiff slumbering in his chain, And chides and buffets, clinging by the mane! Then runs, and, kneeling by the fountain-side, Sends his brave ship in triumph down the tide, A dangerous voyage! or, if now he can, If now he wears the habit of a man, Flings off the coat so long his pride and pleasure, And, like a miser digging for his treasure, His tiny spade in his own garden plies, And in green letters sees his name arise ! Where'er he goes, for ever in her sight, She looks, and looks, and still with new delight.
THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM.
PILGRIM, burden'd with thy sin,
Come the way to Zion's gate;
Knock and weep, and watch and wait.
Weep! He loves the mourner's tears,
Wait! — till heavenly light appears.
Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice!
“ Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest.”
Safe and seald, and bought and bless'd;
Seaľd — by signs the chosen know,
Bless'd- the mighty debt to owe !
Holy pilgrim! what for thee
In a world like this remain ?
Fear and shame, and doubt and pain.
Shame - from glory's view retire,
Man's uncertain life Is like a rain-drop hanging on the bough, Amongst ten thousand of its sparkling kindred, The remnants of some passing thunder shower, Which have their moments, dropping one by one; And which shall soonest lose its perilous hold, We cannot guess.
MRS. J. BAILLIE.
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 1
THE COMBAT BETWEEN HERMINIUS AND MAMILIUS.
HERMINIUS beat his bosom ;
But never a word he spake.
He gave the reins a shake.
Like an arrow from the bow : Black Auster was the fleetest steed
From Aufidus 2 to Po.
Mamilius spied Herminius,
And dasħ'd across the way. “ Herminius ! I have sought thee
Through many a bloody day. One of us two, Herminius,
Shall never more go home. I will lay on for Tusculum 3,
And lay thou on for Rome!” All round them paus’d the battle,
While met in mortal fray The Roman and the Tusculan,
The horses black and gray.
1 A lake called the Cornufelle, near Frascati, is supposed to be the site of the Lake Regillus, the scene of this memorable battle (B. C. 496) in which the Romans, under the Dictator Aulus Posthumius (assisted miraculously by Castor and Pollux) defeated the powerful confederation of the Latin tribes under the Tarquins and Mamilius, the chief of Tusculum.
2 A river of Apulia.
3 Tusculum was destroyed at the end of the 12th century, and its unfortunate inhabitants were obliged to shelter them. selves in huts of branches (fraschi), from which circumstance the modern town of Frascati, built near Tusculum, derives