A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?

The weary idol takes his stand,
Holds out his bruised and aching hand,
While gaping thousands come and go,
How vain it seems, this empty show!
Till all at once his pulses thrill,

"T is poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill!"

And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The names that pleased our mortal ears,
In some sweet lull of harp and song,
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whispering of the world below,
Where this was Bill, and that was Joe?

"From bonds far worse Jaffar delivered me ; From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears;

Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;
Restored me, loved me, put me on a par
With his great self. How can I pay Jaffar?"

Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate
Might smile upon another half as great.
He said, "Let worth grow frenzied if it will;
The caliph's judgment shall be master still;
Go, and since gifts so move thee, take this gem,
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,

And hold the giver as thou deemest fit!"
"Gifts!" cried the friend; he took and hold-
ing it,

High toward the heavens, as though to meet his star,

Exclaimed, "This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar!'

LEIGH HUNT.

WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER.

WE have been friends together

In sunshine and in shade,

Since first beneath the chestnut-tree In infancy we played.

But coldness dwells within thy heart, A cloud is on thy brow;

We have been friends together,

Shall a light word part us now?

We have been gay together;

We have laughed at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay together,

Shall a light word part us now?

We have been sad together;

We have wept with bitter tears

O'er the grass-grown graves where slumbered
The hopes of early years.

The voices which were silent then
Would bid thee clear thy brow;
We have been sad together,

Shall a light word part us now?

CAROLINE E. NORTON.

KINDRED HEARTS.

O, ASK not, hope thou not, too much
Of sympathy below;

Beware the hearts whence one same touch
Bids the sweet fountains flow:
Few and by still conflicting powers
Forbidden here to meet

Such ties would make this life of ours
Too fair for aught so fleet.

It may be that thy brother's eye
Sees not as thine, which turns
In such deep reverence to the sky
Where the rich sunset burns;
It may be that the breath of spring,
Born amidst violets lone,

A rapture o'er thy soul can bring, -
A dream, to his unknown.

The tune that speaks of other times, -
A sorrowful delight!

The melody of distant chimes,
The sound of waves by night;
The wind that, with so many a tone,
Some chord within can thrill,
These may have language all thine own,
To him a mystery still.

Yet scorn thou not for this the true
And steadfast love of years;

The kindly, that from childhood grew,
The faithful to thy tears!

If there be one that o'er the dead
Hath in thy grief borne part,
And watched through sickness by thy bed,
Call his a kindred heart!

But for those bonds all perfect made,
Wherein bright spirits blend,
Like sister flowers of one sweet shade
With the same breeze that bend,
For that full bliss of thought allied,
Never to mortals given,

O, lay thy lovely dreams aside,
Or lift them unto heaven!

FELICIA HEMANS.