Vain was the man, and false as vain,

Who said "Were he ordain'd to run
His long career of life again,

He would do all that he had done."
Ah! 'tis not thus the voice that dwells
In sober birthdays speaks to me;
Far otherwise of time it tells,
Lavish'd unwisely, carelessly-
Of counsel mock'd-of talents, made
Haply for high and pure designs,
But oft, like Israel's incense, laid
Upon unholy, earthly shrines!
All this it tells, and could I trace
The imperfect picture o'er again,
With power to add, retouch, efface,

The lights and shades, the joy and pain,
How little of the past would stay!
How quickly all should melt away-

All, but that freedom of the mind

Which hath been more than wealth to me,—

Those friendships in my boyhood twin'd,
And kept till now, unchangingly;
And that dear home, that saving ark,
Where Love's true light at last I found,
Cheering within, when all grows dark,
And comfortless, and stormy round!

T. MOOKE.

56. THE PARROT.

THE deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts
Are not exclusively possess'd

By human hearts.

A Parrot, from the Spanish main,

Full young, and early caged, came o'er, With bright wings, to the bleak domain Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves, where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue,
His native fruits, and skies, and sun,
He bade adieu.

Instead, he watch'd the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky,
And turn'd on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.

But, petted, in our climate cold

He lived and chatted many a day;
Until, with age, from green and gold
His wings grew grey.

At last, when blind and seeming dumb,
He scolded, laugh'd, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come

To Mulla's shore;

He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech;
The bird in Spanish speech replied,

Flapp'd round his cage with joyous screech,
Dropt down, and died.

CAMPBELL

UPON

57. THE SOLDIER'S TEAR.

[PON the hill he turn'd to take a last fond look Of the valley, and the village church, and the cottage by the brook :

He listen'd to the sounds so familiar to his ear,
And the soldier lean'd upon his sword, and wiped
away a tear!

Beside that cottage porch a girl was on her knees;
She held aloft a snowy scarf that flutter'd in the breeze;
She breathed a prayer for him
a prayer he could

not hear,

But he paused to bless her as she knelt, and wiped away

a tear!

He turn'd and left the spot: oh! do not deem him weak,

For dauntless was the soldier's heart, though tears were on his cheek!

Go, watch the foremost ranks in danger's dark career: Be sure the hand most daring there, has wiped away a tear!

T. H. BAILEY

58. GELERT.

THE spearman heard the bugle sound,
And cheerly smiled the morn,

And many a brach, and many a hound,
Obey'd Llewellyn's horn.

6

But still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a louder cheer:
"Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
Llewellyn's horn to hear?

"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam ?
The flower of all his race!
So true, so brave; a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase!"

In sooth, he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John;

But now no Gelert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.

That day Llewellyn little loved
The chase of hart or hare:
And scant and small the booty proved;
For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied;
When, near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gain'd the castle-door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;

The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore;
His lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,
Unused such looks to meet:

His favourite check'd his joyful guise,
And crouch'd and lick'd his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd —
And on went Gelert too.

And still, where'er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view!

O'erturn'd his infant's bed, he found
The blood-stain'd covert rent;
And all around, the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.

He call'd his child

no voice replied;

He search'd with terror wild;

Blood! Blood! he found on every side,
But nowhere found his child!

"Monster! by thee my child's devour'd!" The frantic father cried,

And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plung'd in Gelert's side!

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumb'rer waken'd nigh;
What words the parent's joy can tell,
To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap
His hurried search had miss'd,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
His cherub boy he kiss'd.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread-
But the same couch beneath

Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,—
Tremendous still in death!