"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in fairy land, When fairy birds are singing,

When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,

With bit and bridle ringing.

"And gaily shines the fairy land—

But all is glistening show,

Like the idle gleam that December's beam

Can dart on ice and snow.

"And fading like that various gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,

Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and

аре.

"It was between the night and day,
When the fairy king has power,
That I sank down in a sinful fray,

And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away,
To the joyless elfin bower.

"But wist I of a woman bold,

Who thrice my brow durst sign,

I might regain my mortal mould,

As fair a form as thine."

She cross'd him once, she cross'd him twice,

That lady was so brave,

The fouler grew his goblin hue,

The darker grew the cave.

She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold,
He rose beneath her hand,

The fairest knight on Scottish mould,
Her brother Ethert Brand.

Merry it is in the good green wood,

When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, When all the bells were ringing.

SCOTT

TU-WHOO!

Song of the Owl.

Tu-whoo! In ancient hall,

In my old gray turret high,

my

Where the ivy waves o'er the crumbling wall,

A king-a king reign I!

Tu-whoo!

I wake the woods with my startling call
To the frighted passer-by.

The gadding vines in the chinks that grow,

Come clambering up to me;

And the newt, the bat, and the toad, I trow,
A right merry band are we.

Tu-whoo!

Oh, the coffin'd dead, in their cells below,
Have no goodlier company.

Let them joy in their brilliant sun-lit skies,
And their sun-set hues, who may;

But how softer far than the tints they prize
Is the dim of the twilight gray!

Tu-whoo!

Ob, a weary thing to an owlet's eyes
Is the garish light of day.

When the sweet dew sleeps on the winding pool, Some tall tree-top I win ;

And the toad leaps up on her throne-shaped stool, And our revels loud begin.

Tu-whoo!

While the bull-frog croaks o'er his stagnant pool, Or plunges sportive in.

As the last lone ray from the hamlet fades
In the dark and still profound,

The night-bird sings in the cloister shades,
And the glow-worm lights the ground.
Tu-whoo!

And fairies trip o'er the broad green glades
To the fire-flies circling round.

Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!-All the livelong night,
A right gladsome life lead we,

While the starry ones from their jewell'd height
Bend down approvingly.

Tu-whoo!

They may bask who will in the noonday light;
But the midnight dark for me!

གང་ཀ

MRS. HEWITT.

The Endian's Revenge.

AN OLD LEGEND.

Now had the autumn day gone by,
And evening's yellow shade.

Had wrapt the mountains and the hills,
And lengthen'd o'er the glade.
The honey-bee had sought her hive,
The bird her shelter'd nest,
And in the hollow valley's gloom

Both wind and wave had rest.

And to a cotter's hut that eve
There came an Indian chief,
And in his frame was weariness,
And in his face was grief.
The feather o'er his head that danced
Was weather-soil'd and rent,
And broken were his bow and spear,
And all his arrows spent.

And meek and humble was his speech;
He knew the white man's hand
Was turn'd against those wasted tribes,
Long scourged from the land.
He pray'd but for a simple draught

Of water from the well,

And a poor morsel of the food

That from his table fell.

He said that his old frame had toil'd
A wide and weary way,

O'er the sunny lakes and savage hills,
And through the lakes that day;
Yet when he saw they scoff'd his words,
He turn'd away in woe,

And cursed them not, but only mourn'd

That they should shame him so.

When many years

had flown away,

That herdsman of the hill

Went out into the wilderness,

The wolf and bear to kill,
To scatter the red deer, and slay
The panther in his lair,

And chase the rapid moose that ranged

The sunless forests there.

And soon his hounds lay dead with toil,
The deer were fierce and fleet,
And the prairie tigers kept aloof
When they heard his hostile feet;
No bread was in that desert place,
Nor crystal rivulet,

To slake the torment of his thirst,
Or his hot brow to wet.

He fear'd-he fear'd to die-yet knew
That nought on earth could save;
For none might catch his parting breath,
And lay him in his grave.