Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings ?→
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

THE KING OF SWEDEN

CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate,
Who never did to Fortune bend the knee;
Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly
Temptation; and whose kingly name and state
Have "perished by his choice, and not his fate" !
Hence lives he, to his inner self endeared;
And hence, wherever virtue is revered,

He sits a more exalted Potentate,

Throned in the hearts of men. Should Heaven ordain

That this great servant of a righteous cause

Must still have sad or vexing thoughts to endure,

Yet may a sympathizing spirit pause,

Admonished by these truths, and quench all pain

In thankful joy and gratulation pure.

HYMN OF THE HEIDELBERG BOATMEN.

JESU! bless our slender Boat,

By the current swept along;
Loud its threatenings,―let them not

Drown the music of a song

Breathed thy mercy to implore,

Where these troubled waters roar!

We forgot Thee, do not Thou
Disregard thy Suppliants now!

Hither, like yon ancient Tower
Watching o'er the River's bed,

Fling the shadow of thy power,

Else we sleep among the dead; Thou who trod'st the billowy sea, Shield us in our jeopardy!

Guide our Bark among the waves;

Through the rocks our passage smooth;

Where the whirlpool frets and raves,
Let thy love its anger soothe:
All our hope is placed in Thee;
Miserere Domine!

LAMBS IN MAY.

with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun, Nature seems to them a heavenly guide. joy approach? they meet the coming tide; su'lenness avoid, as now they shun

Pale twilight's lingering glooms,—and in the sun
Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied;
Or gambol, each with his shadow at his side,
Varying its shape wherever he may run.
As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew
All turn, and court the shining and the green,
Where herbs look up, and opening flowers are seen;
Why to God's goodness cannot We be true,
And so, his gifts and promises between,
Feed to the last on pleasures ever new?

FLOWERS.

ERE yet.our course was graced with social trees,
It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers,
Where small birds warbled to their paramours;
And earlier still was heard the hum of bees;
I saw them ply their harmless robberies,
And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers,
Fed by the stream with soft, perpetual showers,
Plenteously yielded to the vagrant breeze.

There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness;
The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue,
The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even;
And if the breath of some to no caress

Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view,
All kinds alike seemed favorites of heaven.

While in a grove I sat reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure :—
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I

can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?