In every land in every clime
True to her sacred cause,
Filled by that effluence sublime
From which her strength she draws,
Still is the Mother's heart the same
The Mother's lot as tried:
Then, O, may nations guard that name
With filial power and pride!
In this bleak world of mourning some droop while 'tis day, Others fade in their noon, and few linger till eve:
O, there breaks not a heart but leaves some one to grieve;
And the fondest, the purest, the truest that met,
Have still found the need to forgive and forget!
Then, O, though the hopes that we nourished decay,
Let us love one another as long as we stay.
There are hearts, like the ivy, though all be decayed,
That it seemed to clasp fondly in sunlight and shade,
No leaves droop in sadness; still gayly they spread,
Undimmed 'midst the blighted, the lonely, and dead;
But the mistletoe clings to the oak, not in part,
But with leaves closely round it—the root in its heart;
Exists but to twine it, imbibe the same dew, -
Or to fall with its loved oak, and perish there too.
Thus, let's love one another 'midst sorrows the worst,
Unaltered and fond, as we loved at the first :
Though the false wing of pleasure may change and forsake,
And the bright urn of wealth into particles break,
There are some sweet affections that wealth cannot buy,
That cling but still closer when sorrow draws nigh,
And remain with us yet, though all else pass away;
Thus, let's love one another as long as we stay.
The Ancient Man. HENRY ALFORD.
THERE is an ancient man who dwells
Without our parish bounds,
Beyond the poplar avenue,
Across two meadow grounds;
And whensoe'er our two small bells
To church call merrily
Leaning upon our churchyard gate
This old man ye may see.
He is a man of many thoughts,
That long have found their rest,
Each in its proper dwelling-place,
Settled within his breast;
A form erect, a stately brow,
A set and measured mien,
The satisfied, unroving look
Of one who much hath seen.
And once, when young in care of souls,
I watched a sick man's bed,
And willing half, and half ashamed,
Lingered and nothing said,
The ancient man, in accents mild,
Removed my shame away
"Listen!" he said; "the minister
Prepares to kneel and pray."
These lines of humble thankfulness
Will never meet his eye;
Unknown that old man means to live,
And unremembered die.
The forms of life have severed us;
But when that life shall end,
Fain would I hail that reverend man
A father and a friend.
The Aged Oak. HENRY ALFORD.
I was a young, fair tree:
Each spring with quivering green
My boughs were clad; and far
Down the deep vale, a light
Shone from me on the eyes
Of those who passed
a light
That told of sunny days,
And blossoms, and blue sky;
For I was ever first
Of all the grove to hear
The soft voice under ground
Of the warm-working spring;
And ere my brethren stirred
Their sheathéd buds, the kine,
And the kine's keeper, came
Slow up the valley-path,
And laid them underneath
My cool and rustling leaves;
And I could feel them there
As in the quiet shade
They stood, with tender thoughts,
That passed along their life
Like wings on a still lake,
Blessing me; and to God,
The blessed God, who cares
For all my little leaves,
Went up the silent praise;
And I was glad, with joy
Which life of laboring things
Ages have fled since then :
But deem not my pierced trunk
And scanty leafage serve
No high behest; my name
Is sounded far and wide;
And in the Providence
That guides the steps of men,
Hundreds have come to view
My grandeur in decay;
And there hath passed from me
A quiet influence
Into the minds of men:
The silver head of age,
The majesty of laws
The very name of Goa,
And holiest things that are.
Have won upon the heart
Of human kind the more,
For that I stand to meet
With vast and bleaching trunk
The rudeness of the sky.
Death and Character of Queen Elizabeth.
THE Earl of Essex, after his return from the fortunate expedition against Cadiz, observing the increase of the queen's fond attachment towards him, took occasion to regret that the
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