We have been wounded by the hunter's darts;
Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts
Search for thy coming: when the light departs
At evening bring us home.

The darkness gathers. Through the gloom no star
Rises to guide us. We have wandered far.
Without thy lamp we know not where we are:
At evening bring us home.

The clouds are round us and the snow-drifts thicken.
O thou, dear Shepherd, leave us not to sicken
In the waste night: our tardy footsteps quicken ;
At evening bring us home.

ANONYMOUS.

Father-land and Mother-tongue.

UR Father-land! and wouldst thou know

It is, that Adam, here below,

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Was made of earth by Nature's hand;

And he, our father, made of earth,

Hath peopled earth on every hand,

And we, in memory of his birth,

Do call our country, “Father-land."

At first in Eden's bowers, they say,
No sound of speech had Adam caught,

But whistled like a bird all day —
And maybe 't was for want of thought:

But Nature, with resistless laws,

Made Adam soon surpass the birds, She gave him lovely Eve― because

If he'd a wife — they must have words.

MY NEIGHBOR ROSE.

And so the Native-land, I hold,

By male descent is proudly mine; The language, as the tale hath told, Was given in the female line.

And thus we see on either hand,

We name our blessings whence they 've sprung, We call our country FATHER-land,

We call our language MOTHER-tongue.

353

SAMUEL LOVER.

TH

My Neighbor Rose.

HOUGH slender walls our hearths divide, No word has passed from either side, How gayly all your days must glide

Unvexed by labor!

I've seen you weep, and could have wept,
I've heard you sing, and may have slept;
Sometimes I hear your chimney swept,
My charming neighbor!

Your pets are mine. Pray what may ail
The pup, once eloquent of tail?
I wonder why your nightingale

Is mute at sunset?

Your puss, demure and pensive, seems
Too fat to mouse. She much esteems
Yon sunny wall, and sleeps and dreams
Of mice she once ate.

Our tastes agree. I dote upon
Frail jars, turquoise and celadon,

The "Wedding March" of Mendelssohn,
And Penseroso.

When sorely tempted to purloin
Your pietà of Marc Antoine,
Fair Virtue doth fair play enjoin,
Fair Virtuoso !

At times an Ariel, cruel-kind,

Will kiss my lips, and stir your blind,
And whisper low, "She hides behind;
Thou art not lonely."

The tricksy sprite did erst assist
At hushed Verona's moonlight tryst ;
Sweet Capulet! thou wert not kissed
By light winds only.

I miss the simple days of

yore,

When two long braids of hair you wore,

And chat botté was wondered o'er,

In corner cozy.

But gaze not back for tales like those:
It's all in order, I suppose,

The Bud is now a blooming Rose —
A rosy posy!

Indeed, farewell to bygone years;
How wonderful the change appears,
For curates now and cavaliers

In turn perplex you:

The last are birds of feather gay,

Who swear the first are birds of prey;

I'd scare them all had I my way,

But that might vex you.

At times I've envied, it is true,
That hero blithe, of twenty-two,
Who sent bouquets and billets-doux,
And wore a sabre.

The rogue! how close his arm he wound
About her waist who never frowned.

He loves you, child. Now, is he bound To love my neighbor?

MISS MYRTLE.

The bells are ringing. As is meet,
White favors fascinate the street,
Sweet faces greet me, rueful-sweet
'Twixt tears and laughter:
They crowd the door to see her go.
The bliss of one brings many woe;
Oh, kiss the bride, and I will throw
The old shoe after.

so soon!

What change in one short afternoon
My Charming Neighbor gone
Is yon pale orb her honeymoon
Slow rising hither?

O lady, wan and marvelous,

How often have we communed thus ;

Sweet memory shall dwell with us,
And joy go with her!

355

FREDERICK LOCKER.

W

Miss Myrtle.

HERE is Miss Myrtle? can any one tell? Where is she gone, where is she gone? She flirts with another, I know very well;

And I am left all alone!

She flies to the window when Arundel rings

She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings —
It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?

Her love and my love are different things;
And I am left all alone!

I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?

She told me such horrors were never worn now;
And I am left all alone!

But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair,

And I guess whom it came from— of course I don't care! We all know that girls are as false as they 're fair;

Where is she gone, where is she gone?

I'm sure the lieutenant 's a horrible bear;
And I am left all alone!

Whenever we go on the Downs for a ride

Where is she gone, where is she gone? She looks for another to trot by her side;

And I am left all alone!

And whenever I take her down stairs from a ball
She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl;
I'm a peaceable man, and I don't like a brawl -
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
But I would give a trifle to horsewhip them all;
And I - am left all alone!

She tells me her mother belongs to the sect
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect;
And I am left all alone!

But a fire's in my heart, and a fire 's in my brain,
When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O'Shane;
I don't think I ever can ask her again;

Where is she gone, where is she gone?

And, Lord! since the summer she's grown very plain; And I am left all alone!

She said she liked me a twelvemonth ago :

Where is she gone, where is she gone?

And how should I guess that she 'd torture me so?

And I am left all alone!

Some day she 'll find out it was not very wise
To laugh at the breath of a true lover's sighs;
After all, Fanny Myrtle is not such a prize ;
Where is she gone, where is she gone? -
Louisa Dalrymple has exquisite eyes;

And I'll be no longer alone!

WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.