He has quarreled with his neighbors, he has scourged his
foes;
Vassal counts and princes follow where his pennon goes,
Long-descended valiant lords whom the vulture knows.

On whose track the vulture swoops, when they ride in state
To break the strength of armies and topple down the great;
Each of these my courteous servant, none of these my mate.
My father counting up his strength sets down with equal pen
So many head of cattle, head of horses, head of men;
These for slaughter, these for breeding, with the how and
when.

Some to work on roads, canals; some to man his ships;
Some to smart in mines beneath sharp overseers' whips;
Some to trap fur-beasts in lands where utmost winter nips.

Once it came into my heart and whelmed me like a flood, That these, too, are men and women, human flesh and blood;

Men with hearts and men with souls, though trodden down like mud.

Our feasting was not glad that night, our music was not gay;
On my mother's graceful head I marked a thread of gray,
My father frowning at the fare seemed every dish to weigh.

I sat beside them sole princess in my exalted place,
My ladies and my gentlemen stood by me on the dais:
A mirror showed me I looked old and haggard in the face;

It showed me that my ladies all are fair to gaze upon, Plump, plenteous-haired, to every one love's secret lore is known,

They laugh by day, they sleep by night; ah me, what is a throne?

The singing men and women sang that night as usual,
The dancers danced in pairs and sets, but music had a fall,
A melancholy windy fall as at a funeral.

Amid the toss of torches to my chamber back we swept;
My ladies loosed my golden chain; meantime I could have

wept

To think of some in galling chains whether they waked or slept.

I took my bath of scented milk, delicately waited on,
They burned sweet things for my delight, cedar and cin-

namon,

They lit my shaded silver lamp and left me there alone.

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it said: "Men are clamoring, women, children, clamoring to be fed; Men like famished dogs are howling in the streets for bread."

So two whispered by my door, not thinking I could hear, Vulgar, naked truth, ungarnished for a royal ear;

Fit for cooping in the background, not to stalk so near.

But I strained my utmost sense to catch this truth, and mark: “There are families out grazing like cattle in the park."

66

A pair of peasants must be saved even if we build an ark." A merry jest, a merry laugh, each strolled upon his way; One was my page, a lad I reared and bore with day by day; One was my youngest maid, as sweet and white as cream in May.

Other footsteps followed softly with a weightier tramp; Voices said: "Picked soldiers have been summoned from

the camp

To quell these base-born ruffians who make free to howl and stamp."

"Howl and stamp?" one answered: "They made free to hurl a stone

At the minister's state coach, well aimed and stoutly thrown." "There's work, then, for the soldiers, for this rank crop must be mown."

"One I saw, a poor old fool with ashes on his head,

Whimpering because a girl had snatched his crust of bread: Then he dropped; when some one raised him, it turned out he was dead."

"After us the deluge," was retorted with a laugh:

"If bread's the staff of life, they must walk without a staff." "While I've a loaf they're welcome to my blessing and the chaff."

These passed. The king: stand up. Said my father with a smile:

"Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you awhile, She's sad to-day, and who but you her sadness can beguile?" He, too, left me. Shall I touch my harp now while I wait,— (I hear them doubling guard below before our palace gate,-)

Or shall I work the last gold stitch into my veil of state;

Or shall my woman stand and read some unimpassioned

scene,

There's music of a lulling sort in words that pause between; Or shall she merely fan ine while I wait here for the queen?

Again I caught my father's voice in sharp word of command:

"Charge!" a clash of steel: "Charge again, the rebels stand. Smite and spare not, hand to hand; smite and spare not, hand to hand."

There swelled a tumult at the gate, high voices waxing higher;

A flash of red reflected light lit the cathedral spire;

I heard a cry for faggots, then I heard a yell for fire.

"Sit and roast there with your meat, sit and bake there with your bread,

You who sat to see us starve," one shrieking woman said: "Sit on your throne and roast with your crown upon your head."

Nay, this thing will I do, while my mother tarrieth,

I will take my fine spun gold, but not to sew therewith,
I will take my gold and gems, and rainbow fan and wreath;

With a ransom in my lap, a king's ransom in my hand,
I will go down to this people, will stand face to face,-will
stand

Where they curse king, queen, and princess of this cursed land.

They shall take all to buy them bread, take all I have to give;

I, if I perish, perish; they to-day shall eat and live;

I, if I perish, perish; that's the goal I half conceive:

Once to speak before the world, rend bare my heart and show

The lesson I have learned which is death, is life, to know. I, if I perish, perish; in the name of God I go.

O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME!-THOMAS MOORE.
(ROBERT EMMETT.)

O, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid;
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we we shed,
As the night dew that falls on the grave o'er his head.

But the night dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

MOTH-EATEN.-MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

I had a beautiful garment,
And I laid it by with care;

I folded it close with lavender leaves
In a napkin fine and fair;
"It is far too costly a robe," I said,
"For one like me to wear."

So never at morn or evening
I put my garment on;

It lay by itself, under clasp and key,
In the perfumed dust alone,
Its wonderful broidery hidden
Till many a day had gone.

There were guests who came to my portal,
There were friends who sat with me,
And clad in soberest raiment

I bore them company;

I knew that I owned a beautiful robe,
Though its splendor none might see.

There were poor who stood at my portal,
There were orphaned sought my care;

I gave them the tenderest pity,

But had nothing besides to spare;
I had only the beautiful garment,
And the raiment for daily wear.

At last, on a feast day's coming,
I thought in my dress to shine;
I would please myself with the lustre
Of its shifting colors fine;

I would walk with pride in the marvel
Of its rarely rich design.

So out from the dust I bore it-
The lavender fell away-
And fold on fold I held it up
To the searching light of day.
Alas! the glory had perished
While there in its place it lay.

Who seeks for the fadeless beauty
Must seek for the use that seals
To the grace of a constant blessing
The beauty that use reveals.
For into the folded robe alone

The moth with its blighting steals.

MR. BOSBYSCHELL'S CONFESSION.

It was very late Saturday night when Mr. Bosbyschell came home. It was very nearly Sunday morning. He did not come in the usual way. He did not open the gate. He climbed over it, although there was no apparent reason why he should get into the yard in that way. And he climbed on the gate with an affectation of great stealth and with a reality of great difficulty.

Hé slammed himself up against the gate with great violence and a terrific crash, and closed one eye and looked around him at the midnight solitude and said "-ah!" several times.

Then he clambered to the top of the gate and kicked against it with his feet as he scrambled up, and made such a racket that every dog on South Hill woke up and began calling all the other dogs' names, while Mr. Bosbyschell balancing himself on the top of the gate, rattled it so furiously, in his unsteady violence, the dogs could scarcely hear each other, and Mr. B. repeatedly put one hand to his mouth, and said "sh!" in the same warning tones, and winked, in a very laborious and uncertain manner, in the several and general directions of the noisy and invisible dogs, to indicate that he was doing something powerful sly, and wanted to keep most awful shady about it. Then he began to climb over and let himself down on the inside of the gate.

Now the gate was unfastened, and when Mr. Bosbyschell transferred his weight to the inside, it flew wide open, banged itself up against the fence, and Mr. Bosbyschell, as he let himself down on the sidewalk, on the outside of the fence, distorted his face into such an expression of malignant and fiendish cunning as would have silenced every dog on the hill, could they have seen it. Then with stealthy steps he tiptoed across the street in a zigzag manner, holding a finger on his lips to impress the sleeping world and the voiceless night around him with silence, while he pursued his cautious way, as he supposed, to his own front door. His amazement, when he found another row of shade trees, another fence and another closed gate confronting