The Costliest Gift.

The everlasting hills

Rear their cold crested summits to the sky,
While in their hidden chambers treasures lie,
Brighter than e'er shall dazzle mortal eye,
Pour from their golden rills.

Put far the gross, the treacherous, sensual thing; Dimmed by the moth from off his wing,

Slack'ning the soul-harp's most melodious string, False hath the glitterer proved.

The diamond-lighted grot

Of deep Golconda hath a blazing store;
And ocean cells with glorious gems run o'er,

Till coral coffers can contain no more,

Bid them pour largely out.

No! no!- affection's debt

Can ne'er be cancelled by a boon like this.
Pride, in its strong tumultuous excess,
Or passion's favor may in such find bliss:
Love must search deeper yet!

The subtlest spell Omnipotence hath wrought, The truest autographs of worldless thought, Ever with blessing and wild worship sought:

Yes, bring the sacred flowers.

No!

And meet on friendship's altar stone to lay :
But oh their glory hath a swift decay
Before the storm-breath, or the sun's fierce ray
Hurled through the fragrant air.

Search not the generous earth:

Rob not her bosom of its cherished things, Nor take the morning's blue and golden wings To drain full goblets from ethereal springs; These have but dying worth.

Hath love no more to give?

No greener garland for its idol's fane?
Are there no lodgings crushed to earth again?
No great aspirings, clogged by care and pain,
Whose chains its hand may cleave?

Give, then, to overbear

Folly, temptation, weakness, fear and sin,
Give from a nectary that lies deep within,
What life and medicine to thy soul hath been;

Give "helping tears" and prayer.

Unfold the glorious way

Which spirits of an immortal name have trod,
Who scorned to grovel for a worthless clod,
But claimed their lineal parentage in God,
Linked lovingly to clay.

Light to regain the track,

(Lost for a while 'mid those that downward tend,) Strength to press onward, bravely onward, lend Till Hope and Faith triumphantly shall blend, Ne'er to turn faltering back!

Oh! 't is a nobler thing,

One earth-wrought bond from off a soul to break,
One godlike longing in its depths to wake,
One darkening cloud from off its glance to take,
Than wealth of worlds to bring!

S. H. BROWNE.

The Broken Heart.

Now lock my chamber-door, father,
And say you left me sleeping;
But never tell my step-mother,
Of all this bitter weeping.

No earthly sleep can ease my heart,
Or even awhile reprieve it;

For there's a pang at my young heart
That never more can leave it!

Oh! let me lie and weep my fill

O'er wounds that heal can never;
And O, kind Heaven! were it thy will,
To close these eyes for ever;
For how can maid's affections dear
Recall her love forsaken?

Or how can heart of maiden bear
To know that heart forsaken?

Oh! why should vows so fondly made,
Be broken ere the morrow,—
To one who loved as never maid
Loved in this world of sorrow!
The look of scorn I cannot brave,
Nor pity's eye more dreary;
A quiet sleep within the grave
Is all for which I weary!

Farewell, dear Yorrow's mountains green,

And banks of broom so yellow!
Too happy has this bosom been
Within your arbors mellow.
That happiness is fled for aye,
And all is dark desponding,
Save in the opening gates of day,
And the dear home beyond them!

HOGG.