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Now "hearts of oak

may tell

Of the flag of England's fame; When fort and bastion fell

'Neath her battle-bolts of flame!

And Acre's vaunted walls were overthrown,
Still for glory-not for gain-
Doth her flag triumphant reign,
And the empire of the main
Is her own!

TO YOUTH.

ANON.

IN life's gay morn, when sprightly youth
With vital ardour glows,
And shines in all the fairest charms
Which beauty can disclose;

Deep in thy soul, before its powers
Are yet by vice enslaved,
Be thy Creator's glorious name
And character engraved.

For soon the shades of grief shall cloud
The sunshine of thy days;
And cares and toils, in endless round,
Encompass all thy ways.

Soon shall thy heart the woes of age
In mournful groans deplore,

And sadly muse on former joys,
That now return no more.

C

WHAT IS HOPE?

D. H.

WHAT is Hope? A radiant gem,
That sparkles most in mines of gloom-
A star in Mercy's diadem,

To cheer man's pathway to the tomb.

What is Hope? A ray of light

Piercing some dungeon dark and drear, And making daylight seem more bright, To the wretch imprison'd there.

What is Hope? A lovely flower,
Which, though doom'd to pass away,
Has in its fragrance so much power,
That we forget 'twill soon decay.

What is Hope? A friendly raft,
To which poor drowning mortals cling,
Forgetting winds may never waft

Them to the shore they wish to win.

What is Hope? The rescue cry,

Heard when the strife is almost o'er,

When many in that last sleep lie,

Which friend or foe can break no more.

What is Hope? A meteor-light

To those who rest on earth their love; A guiding star both pure and bright To those who fix their eyes above.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.*

ALFRED TENNYSON.

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide:
Careless tenants they!

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door, the shutters close,
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy

Of the dark deserted house.

Come away: no more of mirth
Is here, or merrymaking sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious—

A great and distant city-have bought
A mansion incorruptible.

Would they could have stay'd with us.

THE CHURCHYARD.

LÆTITIA E. LANDON.

THE willow shade is on the ground,
A green and solitary shade,

And many a wild flower on that mound

Its pleasant summer home has made :

The young learner will probably perceive that the "Deserted House," here, means a dead body.

And every breath that waves a leaf
Flings down upon the lonely flowers
A moment's sunshine, bright and brief—
A blessing look'd by parting hours.
I cannot muse beside that mound-

I cannot dream beneath that shade-
Too solemn is the haunted ground
Where Death his resting-place has made.
I feel my heart beat but to think
Each pulse is bearing life away;

I cannot rest upon the grave
And not feel kindred to its clay.

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There is a name upon the stone-
Alas! and can it be the same-
The young, the lovely, and the loved?
It is too soon to bear thy name.
Too soon! oh, no! 'tis best to die

Ere all of life save breath has fled:
Why live when feelings, friends, and hopes
Have long been number'd with the dead?
Oh, weep for those whose silver chain

Has long been loosed, and yet live onThe doom'd to drink of life's dark wave, Whose golden bowl has long been gone! Ay, weep for those the wearied, worn, Dragg'd downward by some earthly tie By some vain hope, some vainer love, Who, loathe to live, yet fear to die.

BRIGHTER HOURS.

GEORGIANA BENNET.

THOUGH dark the present hour may seem,
With sorrow, care, and strife;
Though Gladness may not shed her beam
Upon thy sky of life;

Yet fear not, for amidst the gloom

One hope is ever ours

That joy may yet our lot illume
And bring us Brighter Hours!

Droop not, but nobly struggle still,
For others look to thee;

And they would cease to strive with ill,
If thou shouldst conquer'd be.
In darkest night SOME star appears,
In Winter's hand SOME flowers;
So shines for us, in adverse years,
The hope of Brighter Hours!
With fearless spirit still press on,—
Act thine allotted part!

Life's high rewards were never won
By faint and coward heart!
Keep on thy course and falter not
Though the dread tempest lowers;
But still, however sad thy lot,

Hope on for Brighter Hours!

Cares may be round thee; doubts and fears
Thy trembling soul oppress,
Mourner ! look upward through thy tears,
Thy God is near to bless!

E'en if Hope's earthly ray grows dim,
A better light is ours,

Which leads us on to trust in HIM
Who gives us Brighter Hours.

THE PAST.-ONCE UPON A TIME.

MRS. SOUTHEY.

MIND me of a pleasant time,
A season long ago;

The pleasantest I've ever known,

Or ever now shall know.

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