The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roaredThis was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,

Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?—
They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod.

They have left unstained what there they foundFreedom to worship God.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

TH

HE stately homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land.

The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childhood's tale is told; Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.

The blessed homes of England!
How softly on their bowers

Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from Sabbath hours!
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime
Floats through their woods at morn;
All other sounds, in that still time,
Of breeze and leaf are born.

The cottage homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks

And round the hamlet-fanes.

Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair homes of England!
Long, long, in hut and hall,

May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall!

And green forever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God!

WASHINGTON'S STATUE.

YES! rear thy guardian hero's form

On thy proud soil, thou Western World! A watcher through each sign of storm, O'er freedom's flag unfurl’d.

There, as before a shrine to bow,
Bid thy true sons their children lead:
The language of that noble brow

For all things good shall plead.

The spirit reared in patriot fight,
The virtue born of home and hearth,
There calmly throned, a holy light
Shall pour o'er chainless earth.

And let that work of England's hand,
Sent through the blast and surge's roar,
So girt with tranquil glory, stand
For ages on thy shore!

Such through all time the greetings be,
That with the Atlantic billows sweep!
Telling the mighty and the free
Of brothers o'er the deep!

Thomas Davis.

THE WELCOME.

COME

OME in the evening, or come in the morning-
Come when you're looked for, or

come without

warning;

Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,

And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers, don't sever!"

I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them!
Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom ;
I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;
I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you.

O! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmei,
Or sabre and shield to a knight without armour;
I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me,
Then, wandering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me.

We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyry;
We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy;
We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river,
Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her—
O! she'll whisper you--"Love, as unchangeably beam
ing,

And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming;
Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver,
As our souls flow in one down Eternity's river

99

So come in the evening, or come in the morning-
Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;
Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,

And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers, don't sever!'

John Sterling.

SHAKESPEAR E.

HOW little fades from earth when sink to rest

The hours and cares that move a great man's breast 'Though naught of all we saw the grave may spare, His life pervades the world's impregnate air; Though Shakespeare's dust beneath our footsteps lies, His spirit breathes amid his native skies; With meaning won from him forever glows Each air that England feels, and star it knows; His whispered words from many a mother's voice Can make her sleeping child in dreams rejoice; And gleams from spheres he first conjoined to earth Are blent with rays of each new morning's birth. Amid the sights and tales of common things,

Leaf, flower, and bird, and wars, and deaths of kings,—

Of shore, and sea, and nature's daily round,

Of life that tills, and tombs that load, the ground,
His visions mingle, swell, command, pace by,
And haunt with living presence heart and eye;