5. ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.

T. Philip Neri, as old readings say,

ST

Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day; And being ever courteously inclined

To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
He fell into discourse with him: and thus
The dialogue they held comes down to us:

intend?

St. Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
Y. To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
St. And, when you are one, what do you
Y. To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
St. Suppose it so —what have you next in view?
Y. That I may get to be a canon too.
St. Well; and how then?

Why, cardinal's a high degree

And yet my lot it possibly may be.
St. Suppose it was- -what then?

Y.

Why who can say But I've a chance of being pope one day? St. Well, having worn the mitre, and red hat, And triple crown, what follows after that?

Y. Nay, there is nothing further to be sure, Upon this earth, that wishing can procure: When I've enjoy'd a dignity so high,

As long as God shall please, then-I must die.

St. What! must you die? fond youth! and at the best But wish and hope, and may be all the rest! Take my advice whatever may betide, For that which must be, first of all provide; Then think of that which may be; and indeed, When well prepar'd, who knows what may succeed? But you may be, as you are pleas'd to hope, Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.

DR. BYROM.

6. THE QUEEN OF THE MAY.

You must wait and the Lappiest day of all the glad new year

OU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear

Of all the glad new year, mother, the maddest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

There's many a black, black eye they say, but none so bright as mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline;

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say;

So I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud, when the day begins to break;
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands gay,
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of
the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen; The shepherd lads on every side will come from far away,

And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of

the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers, And the wild marsh marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,

And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;
There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day,
And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of
the May.

All the valley, mother, will be fresh, and green, and still,
And the cowslip and the crow-foot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale will merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of
the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow 'ill be the happiest day of all the glad new year;
To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of
the May.

TENNYSON.

7. WE ARE SEVEN.

A SIMPLE child, dear brother Jim,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,
What can it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl;

She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That cluster'd round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;

Her eyes were fair,

and very fair;

Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And, wondering, look'd at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell!"
She answer'd, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell;
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with

my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea;

Yet you are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree.'

"You run about, my little maid!
Your limbs they are alive!
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then you are only five!"

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied,

"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit-
I sit and sing to them.

"And, often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away.

"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side."

"How many are you then," said I,

"If they two are in heaven?"

The little maiden did reply,

"O master! we are seven.'