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PLAYING VEAR A PRECIPICE.
ON THE PICTURE OF AN INFANT 0, pray to them softly, my baby, with me,
And say thou wouldst rather
They'd watch o'er thy father! While on the cliff with calin delight she kneels, For I know that the angels are whispering to And the blue vales a thousand joys recall,
thee.'' See, to the last, last verge her infant steals !
The dawn of the morning O, fly - yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall.
Saw Dermot returning, Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare,
And the wise wept with joy her babe's father to and the fond boy springs back to nestle there.
And closely caressing
Her child with a blessing,
LEONIDAS of Alexandria (Greek). Translation
of SAMUEL ROGERS.
FROM "THE PRINCESS."
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
MOTHER AND CHILD.
The wind blew wide the casement, and within
It was the loveliest picture ! a sweet child Over the rolling waters go,
Lay in its mother's arms, and drew its life, Come from the dying moon, and blow,
In pauses, from the fountain, the white round Blow him again to me;
Part shaded by loose tresses, soft and dark, While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Concealing, but still showing, the fair realm
Of so much rapture, as green shadowing trees Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
With beauty shroud the brooklet. The red lips
Were parted, and the check upon the breast
Lay close, and, like the young leaf of the flower,
Wore the same color, rich and warm and fresh :-
And such alone are beautiful. Its cyc,
A full blue gem, most exquisitely set,
Looked archly on its worlıl, – the little imp,
And peeped and laughed aloud, and so it laid
Its head upon the shrine of such pure joys,
And, laughing, slept. And while it slept, the tears In Ireland they have a pretty fancy, that, when a child smiles in its sleep, it is "talking with angels."
Of the sweet mother fell upon its check,
Tears such as fall from April skies, and bring A BABY was sleeping ;
The sunlight after. They were tears of joy ; Its mother was weeping;
And the true heart of that young mother then For her husband was far on the wild raging sea ; Grew lighter, and she saug unc
nconsciously And the tempest was swelling
The silliest ballad-song that ever yet Round the fisherman's dwelling; Subdued the nursery's voices, and brought sleep And she cried, “Derniot, darling! O come back To fold her sabbath wings above its couch.
WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS.
BABY ZULMA'S CHRISTMAS CAROL.
Her beads while she numbereil
The baby still slumbered,
"O, blessed be that warning,
My child, thy sleep adorning,
A LIGHTER scarf of richer fold
The morning flushed upon our sight,
From deeper springs of purer light;
“ And while they are keeping
And, ribbon-diademed, she reigns,
Commanding in an unknown tongue
To fondle all things doth she choose,
And when she gets, what some one sends, A trifling gift of tiny shoes,
She kisses both as loving friends ;
0, from a soul suffused with tears
Of trust thou mayst be spared the thorn Which it has felt in other years,
Across the morn our Loril was born,
AUGUSTUS JULIAN REQUIER.
O, THOSE little, those little blue shoes !
O the price were high
That those shoes would buy,
For they hold the small shape of feet
That, by God's good will,
Years since, grew still,
And O, since that baby slept,
With a tearful pleasure,
That little dear treasure,
For they mind her forevermore
And blue eyes she sees
Look up from her knees
As they lie before her there,
A little sweet face
That's a gleam in the place, With its little gold curls of hair.
But evermore the halo
Of angel-light increased,
That folds some fairy feast.
Our darling bud upcurled,
White Rose of all the world.
THE MOTHER'S HEART.
Our Rose was but in blossom,
Our life was but in spring, When down the solemn midnight
We heard the spirits sing, "Another bud of infancy
With holy dews impearled !” And in their hands they bore our wee
White Rose of all the world.
When first thou camest, gentle, shy, and foud,
My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, My heart received thee with a joy beyond
All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure ; Nor thought that any love again might be So deep and strong as that I felt for thee. Faithful and true, with sense beyond thy years,
And natural piety that leaned to heaven ; Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears,
Yet patient to rebuke when justly given; Obedient, easy to be reconciled, And meekly cheerful ; such wert thou, my
You scarce could think so small a thing
Could leave a loss so large ;
From dawn to sunset's marge.
CAROLINE E. NOKON.
Not willing to be left -- still hy my side, And proud the lifting of thy stately head, Haunting my walks, while suminer-day was And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread.
dying; Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glido
Different from both ! yet cach succeeding claim Through the dark room where I was sadly
I, that all other love had been forswcaring, lyiug;
Forth with admitted, equal and the same; Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek,
Nor injured either by this love's comparing, Watch the dim eye, and kiss the fevered cheek.
Nor stole a fraction for the newer call,
But in the mother's heart found room for all ! O boy ! of such as thou are oftenest made
Earth's fragile idols ; like a tender flower,
THE MOTHER'S HOPE.
Is there, when the winds are singing And clung, like woodbine shaken in the winel !
In the happy summer time,
When the raptured air is ringing Then thou, my merry love, – bold in thy glee, With Earth's music heavenward springing,
Under the bouglı, or by the tirelight dancing, Forest chirp, and village chime, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free,
Is there, of the sounds that float Didst come, as restless as a biru's wing glan- Unsighingly, a single note cing,
Half so sweet and clear and wild Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth,
As the laughter of a chill? Like a young sunbeam to the gladdened earth!
Listen ! and be now delighted : Thine was the shout, the song, the burst of joy, Morn hath touched her golden strings ; Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip re- Earth and Sky their vows have plighted ; soundeth;
Life and Light are reunited Thino was the eager spirit naught could cloy,
Amid countless carollings ; And the glad heart from which all grief re- Yet, delicious as they are, boundeth ;
There's a sound that's sweeter far, And many a mirthful jest and mock reply
One that makes the lieart rejoice Lurked in the laughter of thy dark-blue eye.
More than all, the human voice !
And thine was many an art to win and bless,
ing! Again my heart a new allection found, But thought that love with thee had reached its
Organ tiner, deeper, clearer,
Though it be a stranger's tone,
For it answereth to his own.
Throngh the laughter of a child.
Haunted strains from rivulets,
These, erelong, the ear forgets ;
At length trou camest, – thou, the last and
least, Nicknamed “the Emperor" by thy laughing
brothers, Because a haughty spirit swelled thy breast, And thou didst seek to rule and sway the
others, Mingling with every playful infant wile A mimic majesty that made us smile.
And 0, most like a regal child wert thou !
An eye of resolute and successful scheming! Fair shoulders, curling lips, and dauntless brow, Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dream
Ah ! 't was heard by ear far purer,
Fondlier formed to catch the strain,
of the deepest share of pain ;
Hers the deepest bliss to treasure
"T is a mother's Tirge affection
Hears with a inysterious sense,
Thrill in her with power intense.
Piping down the valleys will,
Pipe a song about a limb:”
And I made a rural
GOLDESHAIR climbed up on grandpapa's knee ;
Up in the morning as soon as 't was light,
Grandpapr toyed with the curls on her head.
UNDE" my worlar, under my window,
All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls with fluttering curls
Flit to and fro together : –