Here, when the Sabbath day was done,
And ruddily the Summer sun

Shone o'er the little vale below,

Uprose the hymn so sweet, so slow,
The traveller in the distant glen
Paused on his way to catch again
The lingering notes, till parting day,
Threw its cold shadows o'er his way.

Those days have passed; and mournfully
The chilly wind goes rustling by,

That finds not there those beauteous flowers
It sported with in happier hours;
And gentle forms who loved to gaze

Upon their bloom in youthful days,

Faded, like them in their beauty, and died,

And humbly here sleep side by side.

THE CRUSADER'S FAREWELL.

Lady, farewell!

The morning sun is smiling on thy bower,
Bathing in glorious light cach tree and flower,
And mossy dell.

The matin chant

Is rising now; but when the evening hymn
Sends its soft echoes in each woodland dim,
And storied haunt,

At that lone hour,

Afar from thee, I'll look upon the sky,
And think each breeze as low it murmurs by,
Comes from thy bower.

And when that star

Which we have loved together, brightly burns
In the clear sky, I'll think on one who mourns
For me, afar.

When thou art lone,

And o'er thy heart Hope sheds no brightening ray;

O sing the notes I loved in happier days

Days fled and gone.

And when the shout

Of mailéd men is soaring through the sky

With crash of armor, and the redoubled cry Of battle rout,

I'll think on thee;

Thy name shall be my war-cry, and its swell
Shall sound the death-note of the infidel
The watchword of the free.

It is the trumpet's parting call - I come!
Pray for thy lover, and for Christendom.
Farewell! Farewell!

William Belcher Glazier.

DECEMBER SNOW.

Fall thickly on the rose-bud,

Oh! faintly falling snow!

For she is gone who trained its branch, And wooed its bud to blow.

Cover the well-known pathway,
Oh, damp December snow!
Her step no longer lingers there
When stars begin to glow.

Melt in the rapid river,

Oh, cold and cheerless snow! She sees no more its sudden wave, Nor hears its foaming flow.

Chill every song-bird's music,
Oh, silent, sullen snow!

I cannot hear her loving voice,
That lulled me long ago.

Sleep on the earth's broad bosom,
Oh, weary, winter snow!

Its fragrant flowers, and blithesome birds

Should with its loved one go.