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And so the years drew onward, ever bringing
Their meed of change; to youth maturity,
The young life into fuller life upspringing,
The aged feeling that the stern decree
That doomed it had gone forth: no more Spring's
blessing

Could kiss it into bud and scented bloom;
No longer Summer's dear and warm caressing
Restore lost strength, or save it from its doom.

"Wife," said the dweller in the cottage (Time Had gently dealt with him, a silver streak Marked here and there brown locks, yet manhood's prime

Still lingered in his frame; the matron's cheek

A ruddier bloom displayed; the husband's arm
Enclasped an ampler form in its embrace
Than that which in an evening still and warm
Reclined upon him in that self-same place)-
"Wife, see the young vine planted on the day

Our boy was born; 'tis twenty years ago;
How both have thriven since that blessed May!
A happy thought of mine, wife, was't not so,
To plant it then? Our dear old vine, I knew,
Hale though it was, could not much longer
last,

Before the babe to early manhood grew,

Its fruiting days would all be gone and past. And now 'tis dead and only fit to make

A faggot for the autumn evening hearth, Fetch me my axe, this very day I'll take

Its sapless boughs and stems from off the earth."

He said, but said in vain. About, around

The rugged stem, the branches dead and dry, The younger vine its limbs so close had wound, "Twere scarcely possible e'en to descry Where life and death united. Hate is strong, But strong true love can conquer strongest hate;

Love's victories are as Truth's, bring right from

wrong,

And wage successful war with Time and Fate. -All the Year Round,

A VENETIAN BRIDAL.

SHE is dancing in the palace,

In the palace on the sea; Down, far down, the sullen water Floweth silently.

She is radiant in her beauty,

Pearls her ebon ringlets twine, Rubies glisten on her finger,

Sapphires on her bosom shine.
She is queen of every heart there,
Envy of the beauteous train;
On her looks are fiefdoms pending,
Deadliest loss and loftiest gain.
Princes for her sake are sighing;
She is fairest, first of all
Who are dancing in the palace
At the Doge's festival.

Dancing in the Doge's palace
In the palace on the sea;
Down, far down, the turbid water
Rolleth sullenly. .

For her love a royal bosom Beats with fierce desire; Unrequited passion, burning Like consuming fire.

Wherefore doth she shrink and quiver
When he breathes her name?
Wherefore is her cheek and bosom
Dyed with crimson shame?
And her eager eye turns from him,
Glancing far astray

For some absent one, regretful
Of his long delay.

Fix'd upon her with dark meaning,
Glare those baleful eyes;

Fast clench'd, by the wrist, he holds her:
"Thou art mine! My prize!
Vainly from the fowler's clutches
Would the bird take flight;
'Gainst the strong is no appealing,
Here, where might is right."

They are dancing in the Doge's Palace on the sea;

Down, far down, the cruel water Murmurs mockingly.

But her cheek grows white: he comes not,
Comes not, whom she loves.

Drooping, vacant, 'mong the dancers
Listlessly she moves.

Heard she not the heavy footsteps
Cross the bridge of doom?

Nor the iron fetters clanking

Of the living tomb?

Hears she not a sudden splashing
In the tide beneath?
Drown'd in tones of mirthand music

Are the sounds of Death.

She is leaning from her casement
O'er the dark polluted tide.
Long ere set of sun to-morrow

She will be a prince's bride.
Little weens the royal bridegroom,
Dreaming of her in his sleep,
How she watches at her casement
In the dead of night, to weep.
"Oh thou dark and dismal channel,
Fisher's net was never cast
In thy guilty waters, shrouding
Bloody secrets of the past.
In the day of retribution,

When thy waves are backward roll'd, What an awful revelation

Shall the startled world behold!
Yet my spirit yearneth o'er thee,
And my envious eyes would peer
Through thy myst'ries, to recover
All my broken heart holds dear.
What a pearl lies hid beneath thee!
I would venture fathoms deep
To regain my stolen treasure

Which thy gloomy caverns keep.
They have made me fast, their victim!
But I scorn their utmost might.
I will break my chain, Beloved,
And will be with thee to-night!"

They are waiting in the palace, Bridegroom, kinsmen, guests and all:

Wherefore does the lady tarry

From the wedding festival? What a rare and splendid pageant ! What a scene of pomp and pride! Nothing at the marriage festa

Wanting, but, alas ! the bride. Hearts grow sick with hope deferred; Livid is the bridegroom's cheek; Near and distant for the lady

High and low in vain they seek.
Bridegroom, 'twixt thy dreams and waking
Blissful dreaming of thy bride-
Heard'st thou not a splash, a ripple
Break the stillness of the tide ?
She is safe for ever from thee.

Wilt thou seek her in the deeps
Of the foul forbidden waters
Where thy FAVOR'D rival sleeps?

Roll on, woful, wicked waters,

Bear them out into the sea; Let them lie all undefilèd

In the blue immensity!

There is mourning in the palace,

In the palace on the sea;

Down, far down, the doomed waters
Throb lamentingly.

-All the Year Round.

VENICE.

AGAIN upon the lips of men
It passes, a familiar word,
VENETIA!-poetry of names-

Sweetest and saddest earth has heard;
Once, noblest, too, for she has shone
Single and lustrous as a star,
Nor always one portending woe,

Or lurid with the reek of war.

Bright through the far receding past The radiance of her greatness glows, As from the marge of sunlit seas,

A path of light ascending goes; And glorious even in her fall,

She shines, as when in western skies
The blooming purple faints and fades,
And all the golden glory dies.

Grand were the old barbaric days
When in her regal splendor throned
She ruled a light-effulging sphere,
By tributary kingdoms zoned;
The Cleopatra of the earth

She revelled then, while on her breast The wealth of all the Orient glowed

And blinded the adoring West.

Noble those days when in her pride
She brook'd no bridegroom but the sea,
And in its rough embraces caught
The fatal longing—to be free !
Fatal, since Despotisms yet

Shrank from that light of later times; Or saw and hated what they saw,

And held it heaviest of crimes.

Oh! saddest spectacle of earth

That queenly brow the common scorn,

Its grandeur wholly passed away, Its beauty utterly forlorn!

A desolation as of death

Has stricken to that royal heartWhat but a memory is her fame ? Where in the present is her part? And for the future? years will die, And years on years, revolving moons Will gild her lion's shadowy wings, And tremble in her still lagunes. But never will the hour return That yields her back her ancient reign, And never will the nations bend

In homage at her feet again.

The past is past. No second prime,
No second summer beauty knows,
And she, the fallen, the forlorn,

Has but her memories and her woes;
No gleams of freedom stir her heart,
No visions of recovered power-
Only her beauty cannot die,

And it and sorrow are her dower. -London Society.

SUMMER EVE.

W. S.

FAIR Summer Eve! sweet as the purling stream,
To parched lips, amid Arabian sand,
Calm as the silent echoes of a dream,
That wafts the exile to his native land.

Kind Summer Eve! life's hard realities
Are melted by thy spirit-soothing breath,
The stricken heart forgets its miseries,

The dying dreams not hopelessly of death.
Cool Summer Eve! thy gentle murmurings
Tell me of happy moments, ever fled,
Nor heed the stubborn course of Saturn's wings,
But dare the footsteps of the past to tread.

Sweet Summer Eve! I've sat and watched thee die,

And one by one the timid starlets shine, Celestial rivals of her glistening eye,

Whose loving hand was fondly clasped in mine.

Dear Summer Eve! we sat and watched thee die,
From twilight shadows into glooms of night,
Nor recked how fast the happy hours could fly,
When love had lent his pinions to their flight.
Still Summer Eve! thou hast full many a tale;
Fain would I, lingering, hearken yet to thee,
Charmer of grief, though other loves may fail,
A welcome thou wilt ever meet from me.
-London Society.
G. B. R.

CANUTE THE DANE.

BY WILLIAM JONES.

CANUTE the Dane was a resolute man, Accustom'd to say, "Let them cheat me who can. I will think as I like, and do just what I pleaseI am king of the Angles, and lord of the seas." But just as he said this his toes touch'd the tide, And he tuck'd up his garments, and swallow'd his pride.

But he tingled the ears of his sycophant knaves, Who had echoed his crowing as lord of the

waves.

Canute the Dane was a frolicsome king;

He would order his serving-men all in a ring, Who belabor'd each other through thick and through thin,

Till scarcely a bone was left cover'd with skin. Then grim smiled the monarch, and took his repast,

While a gratified look on the champions he cast: Fight away as you like," said the hardy old Dane,

"It will toughen your ribs when I want you again."

Canute the Dane was a bibulous man,

He could clear at one draught a large measure or

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"Lux æterna luceat eis!
Dona eis requiem!

On the hour-the hour supernal,
When they met the light eternal-
These, laid down at last to sleep
In a silence dark and deep-

Waking-Lo! the night's away-
Light eternal-light eternal-

Full, soul-satisfying day!

Eyes of mine, thus hungry gazing
Into the far concave, blazing
With a dazzling blueness bright-
Ye are blind as death or night:

While my dead, their open'd eyes
Mute upraising, past all praising,
Pierce into God's mysteries.

Oh their wisdom, boundless, holy!
Oh their knowledge, large as lowly!
Oh their deep peace after pain-
Loss forgotten, life all gain!

And, O God! what deep love moves
These, now wholly nourished solely
In Thee, who art Love of loves!

Ye our Dead, for whom we pray not;
Unto whom wild words we say not,
Though we know not but ye hear,
Though we often feel ye near:
Go into eternal light!
You we stay not, and betray not

Back into our dim half-night.

Well we trow ye fain would teach us, And your spirit arms would reach us

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Summer orchards, white with blossoms, dropping white flakes all around

Wafted, oh, so softly, downwards, till they rest without a sound

With the dewdrops, and the daisies, and the mosses on the ground.

Autumn orchards, dense with leafage, bowered thickly overhead,

Where the clustering pears and apples ripen slowly brown and red,

And the children search for windfalls in the grass, with careful tread.

Orchards, orchards, all your lessons for our learning are not few:

Would our souls could sun and ripen, bearing fruit as we see you!

Would our lives bent to God's finger with an answer just as true!

BRIEF LITERARY NOTICES.

Spare Hours. By JOHN BROWN, M.D. Second series. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1866. The author of Rab and his Friends needs no introduction to the public. Some of the fifteen essays which are comprised in this volume are among the choicest productions of his pen. The first, on John Leech, to whose artistic skill Punch is so greatly indebted, is highly appreciative; while the next, on Marjorie Fleming, a most extraordinary child, towards whom Walter Scott cherished a remarkable affection, is among the most interesting sketches we have ever read. The Lay Sermons addressed to the working classes, and some of which, he tells us, were preached by the author in a mission chapel in Edinburgh, are unique in their way, but charming for their sim

plicity and common sense, and admirably adapted | rial historical volume that ought to be put into to do good.

The Kemptons. By H. R. P. Captain Christie's Granddaughter. By Mrs. LAMB (Ruth Buck). New-York: M. W. Dodd. These two volumes are designed for advanced juveniles. The first illustrates the dangers and evils of intemperance, and might be read profitably by grown-up children. The other is a story of the sea, or rather the experience of one who long followed the sea, and is full of interesting incidents. They are both books that can safely be put into the hands of children and youth.

How I Managed my Children from Infancy to Marriage. By Mrs. WARREN. Boston: Loring. 1866. This book has had a large sale in England. It is by the author of How I Managed my House on Two Hundred Pounds a Year. Mrs. Warren possesses sterling good sense, a wide experience and observation, and Christian principle. The style is simple, and the work is eminently suggestive. Mothers can hardly fail to be profited by the reading of it.

Philip Earnscliffe; or, the Morals of May Fair. By Mrs. EDWARDS. Mr. Winkfield. A novel. New-York: American News Company. 1866. These are English stories of very unequal merit. The latter is dull and stupid, even beyond most of the school to which it belongs, and we cannot see what is to sell it. The other will command a

every library on both sides of the ocean. It is a just tribute to the enterprise, the daring, and faith of the men who have achieved this new and important conquest, and joined the New World to the Old, and especially to Mr. Cyrus W. Field, to whom the world is mainly indebted for it. See our sketch of Mr. Field for further particulars.

Bacon's Descriptive Handbook of AmericaComprising History, Geography, Agriculture, Manufactures, Commerce, Railways, Mines, Finance, Government, Politics, Education, Religion, etc. By GEORGE WASHINGTON BACON, F.R.G.S., and WILLIAM GEORGE LARKINS, B.A. G. W. Bacon & Co., London, and 5 Beekman - street, New-York. The lengthy title page indicates the character of this work. The execution is good. A vast amount of information, in the form of description, statistics, and maps, is here brought together and arranged skilfully. It is an admirable book to put into the hand of any traveller, and especially the intelligent foreigner, thousands of whom we may now expect will flock to our shores, and desire just the aid and information which it contains.

ART.

Litho Photography is the name given by the inventors and patentees, Messrs. Bullock Brothwide circle of readers, both on account of the ers, of Leamington, to a process by which a phostory itself and the popularity of the author.tograph may be transferred to stone or zinc, and Mrs. Edwards is no mean writer, and we think this among the best of her productions. Not that we think it faultless. It is intensely sensational. It is a terrible record of immorality. But it is written with decided ability, and the interest is kept up to the close. Marguerite, the sweet, pure, and beautiful child of nature, and Philip, the cultivated, accomplished, and tainted man of the world, are the chief characters; and the guilty passion of the latter was the evil star of the former, and finally tarnished her womanly honor and virtue, and sent her to an untimely grave. The story ends-as one anticipates from the first-in irremediable ruin and tragic horror

and darkness.

impressions taken from these. It is no part of our duty to describe the process; a copy of the specification of the patent now in our hands would enable us to do this; but of its results we can judge from several printed specimens which have been forwarded to us. These pictures, consisting of landscapes and of architecture, certainly do not impress us very favorably that the invention in its present state is likely to take the place of any other mode of illustrative printing; they are, especially the landscapes, com paratively weak in color and indistinct in detail; how far these defects may be attributable to the photograph itself, we cannot say, but it is just possible they may be traced to an absence of brilliancy in the original copy of the subject. There is, however, a remedy for any such, or even other, defects, inasmuch as we are informed that the stone or zinc-plate to which the picture is transferred, may be worked upon by an artist to any extent, in the same manner as if he had to draw the entire subject upon either material. The chief, perhaps we should add the only, advantage desirable from the process, so far as we can see, is cheapness of reproduction. These litho-photographic prints, which look very like ordinary lithographs, can be produced at a far less cost than photographs, and much lower than lithographs on which the draughtsman has employed his time and talents. Probably further experiments will enable Messrs. Bullock to improve upon their invention, for we can only at present see in it the elements of lasting success.

History of the Atlantic Telegraph. By HENRY M. FIELD, D.D. New-York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1866. We had supposed, in common with many others, that the " Atlantic Telegraph" had become an "old story." But we were mistaken, as we find on reading this volume, prepared by Dr. Field, our friend of the New-York Evangelist, and brother of Mr. Cyrus W. Field. His relations with his brother have given him access to all the means and sources of information, and thus enabled him to write a full and reliable history of this grandest achievement of modern times. And it is not a dry and formal record of facts, but, owing to the nature of the grand enterprise -so unique, so wonderful, and persevered in in the face of so many and such formidable obstaclesand the skill in grouping the incidents and facts which constitute the history, is as exciting and The Portrait of the Queen for Mr. Peabody is full of interest as any romance. Dr. Field has now to be seen at Messrs. Dickinson's in Bondachieved the task nobly, and produced a memo-street-that is, the likeness on cardboard from

which the enamel is to be painted, for be it understood this is the step preliminary to the working of a careful enamel picture. The occasion which has called forth this really admirable work, and the circumstances in association with its production, render it one of the most interesting portraits of the Queen that has yet been seen. It is in the form of a large vignette of exquisite finish. The size is fourteen inches long by nine or ten in width, dimensions beyond those of any panel that has yet been attempted in enamel portraiture. In order that the likeness should be wanting in nothing as far as her Majesty was concerned, she gave the artist, Mr. Tilt, the number of sittings necessary to its perfect completion, and she has been pleased to express her entire satisfaction at the success of the drawing, which will be added to the royal collection. The Queen's attire consists of a black silk dress, trimmed with ermine, a Mary Stuart cap, over which is the demi-crown the only ornaments are the Koh-i-noor and a cross richly set with jewels, a gift of Prince Albert. The enamel will be effected on a plate of gold, a long and tedious process, the conduct of which is a source of incessant anxiety. It is the intention of Mr. Peabody to place it in his native town, Boston, where the public can have access to it. There is also at Messrs. Dickinson's a portrait of Mr. Peabody in progress for the trustees of the Peabody Fund, which we shall have much pleasure in describing when completed.

successors. The announcement of this important publication has given great satisfaction to the students of Mexican history, who have hitherto only been able to obtain with great difficulty Ms. copies of a few of the instructions. The Diario proposes to publish the instructions of the Viceroys which exist in the general archives, including some which the said Viceroys received from the Court. If we are correctly informed, only the following are preserved in the archives: "Instruccion del Sr. conde de Revillagigedo (el primero) al Sr. marques de las Amarillas.-El conde de Revillagigedo al marques de las Amarillas, sobre el establecimiento del real de minas de Bolaños.-Instruccion al corregidor de dicho real.-Instruccion militar al mismo.-El conde de Revillagigedo al marques de les Amarillas. Ocurrencias del Nuevo Santander, y su pacificacion.-El mismo al mismo, sobre el Real de minas de Bolaños.-El mismo al mismo, sobre establecimiento del juzgado de bebidas prohibidas.-El mismo al mismo, sobre secularizacion de curatos.-Instruccion general que trajo de la corte el marques de las Amarillas,

Instruccion particular del consejo al Sr. marques de las Amarillas.-Instruccion reservada del rey al marques de las Amarillas.-Noticias instructivas que por muente de Sr. marques de las Amarillas, dió su secretario D. Jacinto Marfil al Sr. Cagigal de la Vega.-Instruccion del Sr. Cagigal al Sr. Cruillas.-Instruccion del Sr. Flores al Sr. conde de Revillagigedo (el segundo.) Turner's Hidden Drawings.-More than eight-Instruccion del Sr. Branciforte al Sr. Azanza. years ago Mr. Ruskin, to whom was intrusted-Documentos relativos a la misma.-Instructhe duty of examining and classifying Turner's cion del Sr. Marquina al Sr. Iturrigaray.-Indrawings, reported upon them in these words: struccion muy reservada, del mismo al mismo." "The remainder of the collection consists of This last is one of the most interesting. There miscellaneous drawings, from which many might seems to be no doubt that copious and interestbe spared, with little loss to the collection in ing as is this collection, it might be largely augLondon, and with great advantage to the stu-mented, and we find that the well-known Mexidents in the provinces. Five or six collections, each illustrative of Turner's mode of study, and succession of practice, might easily be prepared for the academies of Edinburgh, Dublin, and the chief manufacturing towns of England." These drawings and sketches-with some paintings, we believe, which have never been hung-are the property of the country, and are carefully stowed away in sundry rooms in the National Gallery. We are at a loss for a reason why works of such relative value and interest are still kept in concealment. They might, at least, be lent in accordance with Mr. Ruskin's suggestion, even if it is ultimately determined to give them a public position in the new National Gallery we are looking for. Perhaps Mr. Boxall, now director of the National Gallery, may consider it a matter to which it would be well to call the attention of the trustees. Some such movement would not be an inappropriate inauguration of his new official duties.

VARIETIES.

Mexican History.-We are informed by a friend at Mexico that, in conformity with an order of his Majesty the Emperor, the Diario del Imperio will publish an edition of the instructions which the Viceroys of Spain left to their

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can scholar, Sr. Don Joaquim Garcia Icazbalceta, has already addressed a letter to the editors, in which he points out the existence of two or three other pieces of a similar kind, which might with advantage be attached to the collection about to be published. The papers quoted by Sr. Icazbalceta are "Instruccion del Duque de Linares al marques de Valero," which the Mexican historian, Alaman, has already made use of in one of his works-Instruccion del marques de Mancera al Duque de Veraguas. This paper is printed in the 21st volume of the "Colleccion de Documentos, inéditos para la Historia de España," pág 438, á 552.-"Instruccion del primer Virey D. Antonio de Mendoza à D. Luis de Velasco," published in the 26th volume of the Colleccion de Documentos inéditos." Instruccion del Segundo conde de Revillagigedo al marques de Branciforte" (of this a separate edition was printed in 1831). Besides the instructions, properly so called, there are some other papers which might figure among them. Señor Icazbalceta records the following as belonging to this class:-" Estado del reino de la Nueva-España, à tiempo de entregar el baston al duque de la Couquista, dirigido al rey por el Ilmo. Sr. Vizarron; printed at Mexico in 1740, in folio. Cited by Beristain. - Advertimientos sobre algunos puntos del gobierno de la Nueva-España, que el marques de Montes Claros envió á S.M.

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