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For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade

. His child he did discover ;-
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,

And one was round her lover.

“Come back! come back !” he cried in grief,

“ Across the stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter! oh, my daughter !
'Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore,

Return or aid preventing;
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

Campbell.

GIRLHOOD.

W

ITH rosy cheeks, and merry-dancing curls,

And eyes of tender light,
Oh, very beautiful are little girls,
And goodly to the sight!
Here comes a group to seek my lonely bower,

Ere waning autumn dies :
How like the dewdrops on a drooping flower

Are smiles from gentle eyes !
What beaming gladness lights each fairy face

The while the elves advance,
Now speeding swiftly in a gleesome race,

Now whirling in a dance.
What heavenly pleasure o'er the spirit rolls,

When all the air along
Floats the sweet music of untainted souls,
In bright, unsullied song.

The sacred nymphs that guard this sylvan ground,

May sport unseen with these,
And joy to hear their ringing laugh resound

Among the clustering trees.
With rosy cheeks, and merry-dancing curls,

And eyes of tender light,
Oh, very beautiful are little girls,

And goodly to the sight!

A SUMMER INVOCATION.

O

GENTLE, gentle summer rain,

Let not the silver lily pine

The drooping lily pine in vain
To feel that dewy touch of thine,
To drink thy freshness once again

O gentle, gentle summer rain.
In heat the landscape quivering lies;

The cattle pant beneath the tree;
Through parching air and purple skies

The earth looks up in vain for thee;
For thee, for thee, it looks in vain,

O gentle, gentle summer rain.
Come thou, and brim the meadow streams,

And soften all the hills with mist;
0, falling dew, from burning dreams,

By thee shall herb and flower be kist;
And earth shall bless thee yet again,
O, gentle, gentle summer rain,

W. C. Bennett.

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HE orange sheds its sweet perfume

Beneath Hispania's skies,

We have the apples' ruddy bloom, The orchards' rich supplies ! The cocoa and the date-tree spread

Their boughs in India's clime, The yellow mango hangs o'erhead,

And stately grows the lime ;
We have the cherry's tempting bough,

The currant's coral gem;
What English child will not allow

That these may vie with them ?

Italy boasts its citron groves,

And walks of lemon trees;
Ceylon its spicy nuts and cloves,

That scent the summer breeze ;

We have the peach and nectarine red,

The ripe and blooming plum,
The strawberry in its leafy bed,

When holidays are come.
The purple vine its harvest yields,

France, on thy fertile plain :
But we have yellow waving fields

Of golden British grain.

Still let us love this spot of earth,

The best, where'er we roam,
And duly estimate the worth
Of our dear English home.

Mrs. C. B. Nelson.

KING VOLMER AND ELSIE.

WH

HERE, over heathen doom-rings and grey

stones of the Horg, In its little Christian city stands the church

of Vordingborg; In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his

power, As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his

tower.

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Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and

faithful squire“Darest trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy desire?" “Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me, As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee."

Loud laughed the King: “To-morrow shall bring

another day, When I myself will test her, she will not say me nay.” Thereat the lords and gallants that round about him

stood Wagged all their heads in concert, and smiled as

courtiers should.

The grey lark sings o’er Vordingborg, and on the

ancient town, From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose

looks down; The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of

morn, The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare of

hunter's horn.

In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and spins, And, singing with the early birds, her daily task

begins. Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her

garden bower, But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than the

flower.

About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and,

white As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small round

wrists in sight; Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a

wheel.

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