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Such was the sight their wond'ring eyes Beheld, in heart-struck, mute surprise,
Who reined their coursers back, Just as they found the long astray, Who, in the heat of chase that day,
Had wandered from their track. Back each man reined his pawing steed, And lighted down, as if agreed,
In silence at his side;
And there, uncovered all, they stood —
For of the noblest of the land
By that dead pauper on the ground,
THE ANGELS' SONG.
Ir came upon the midnight clear,
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven sky they come
O'er all the weary world:
They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
And men, at war with men, hear not
And ye, beneath life's crushing load
With painful steps and slow;
And hear the angels sing!
For lo the days are hastening on,
E. H. SEARS.
MERRILY, merrily, goes the bark,
On a breeze from the northward free; So shoots through the morning sky the lark,
Or the swan through the summer sea.
That guard famed Staffa round.
Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
That Nature's voice might seem to say,
LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,
To row us o'er the ferry."
"Now, who be ye would cross Loch Gyle,
This dark and stormy water?"— "O! I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.
And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together;
But for your winsome lady:
In danger shall not tarry; So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry."
By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still, as wilder blew the wind,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."— The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,-
And still they rowed amidst the roar
For, sore dismayed, through storm and
AN ENGLISH CHRISTMAS HOME.
A LOUD and laughing welcome to the merry | A bright and joyous welcome to the berries Christmas bells! and the leaves All hail with happy gladness to the well- That hang about our household walls in known chant that swells! dark and rustling sheaves! We list the pealing anthem chord, we hear Up with the holly and the bay, set laurel the midnight strain, on the board,
And love the tidings that proclaim old And let the mistletoe look down while Christmas back again.
But there must be a melody of purer, deeper sound
A rich key-note, whose echo runs through all the music round:
pledging draughts are poured.
But there must be some hallowed bloom to garland with the rest;-
All, all must bring toward the wreath some flowers of the breast.
Let kindly voices ring beneath low roof and For though green boughs may thickly grace palace dome, low roof and palace dome, For those alone are carol chimes that bless Warm hearts alone will truly serve to deck a Christmas home. a Christmas home.
Then fill once more, from Bounty's store, Then fill once more, from Bounty's store,
red wine, or nut brown foam, And drink to honest hearts within an English Christmas home.
SEE, in yon chamber's dim recesses,
That bosom, which seems nigh the bursting, Yon child was suckled, nestled, nurst in. That heart, -to God outpoured, and offered,-
Death, for her son, hath three times suffered.
Oh! of all mortal pangs, there's nought
He rises-God hath heard her prayer! Whilst she, 'twixt sobbing, tears, and shrieking,
Clasps him with heart too big for speaking.