By day its voice is low and light; Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, Never-forever!" In that mansion used to be His great fires up the chimney roared; That warning timepiece never ceased- There groups of merry children played, And affluence of love and time! Never forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair "Forever-never! Never forever!" All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, "Ah! when shall they all meet again?" As in the days long since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply, "Forever-never! STAY She is not mad who kneels to thee; I am not mad; I am not mad. My tyrant husband forged the tale Oh! haste my father's heart to cheer: He smiles in scorn, and turns the key; 'Tis sure some dream, some vision vain; Which never more my heart must glad, Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, Nor round her neck how fast you clung; Nor how that suit your sire forbade; Nor how I'll drive such thoughts away; They'll make me mad; they'll make me mad. His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled! His mild, blue eyes, how bright they shone! None ever bore a lovelier child: And art thou now forever gone? Oh, hark! what mean those yells and cries? Now, now my dungeon grate he shakes. I am not mad, but soon shall be. Yes, soon; for, lo you! - while I speak- ΚΙ THE GLOVE AND THE LION. ING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side, And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed: And truly 't was a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one another; Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air: Said Francis, then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous, lively dame, With smiling lips, and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed the same; She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be; He surely would do wondrous things to show his love for me: King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine; I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine." She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild: The leap was quick, return was quick, he soon regained the place, Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. "In faith," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat; "Not love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that." THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGHTER. Written by a young lady, who had been accused of being a maniac on the subject of Temperance, because her writings were so full of pathos. Go, kneel as I have knelt; Implore, beseech, and pray- Go, weep as I have wept, O'er a loved father's fall See every promised blessing swept, Youth's sweetness turned to gall; Life's fading flowers strewed all the way, That brought me up to woman's day. |