Songs of happiness and heart's-ease;
Sang the blue-bird, the Owaissa,
"Happy are you, Hiawatha,
Having such a wife to love you!”
Sang the Opechee, the robin,
Happy are you, Laughing Water,
Having such a noble husband!"

From the sky the sun benignant
Looked upon them through the branches,
Saying to them, "O, my children,
Love is sunshine, hate is shadow,
Life is checkered shade and sunshine;
Rule by love, O Hiawatha!"

THE SEA-CAPTAIN'S FAREWELL TO HIS

CHILD.

HE breeze whistles fresh above us, the swift tide runneth below;

TH

The ship, they tell me, is waiting-is waiting, and I must go;

For I earn my bread on the waters-on the stormtossed, treacherous main ;

I'll be back in a year, my darling, when the roses bloom again.

A year;-full many a sailor, ere the year is over, shall sleep,

With a boulder of rock for a pillow, in the tangle weed, fathoms deep.

Back in a year, my darling,—the words are quickly said,

But the storm will be up and doing, and the sea will have its dead.

What then? Who die in their duty die well, and are in His hand.

"We're as near to heaven," said the brave man, "by

sea as we are by land."

E'en then we shall have a meeting, and no more parting and pain,—

When both are at rest on the Father's breast, and the roses bloom again.

H. W. Dulcken.

THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

ND are ye sure the news is true?

AN

And are ye sure he's weel?

Is this a time to think o' wark?
Make haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this a time to spin a thread,
When Colin's at the door?

Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,
And see him come ashore.

For there's nae luck about th' house,
There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house,
When our gudeman's awa.

And gie to me my bigonet,

My bishop's satin gown;

For I maun tell the baillie's wife
That Colin's in the town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,
For he's baith leal and true.

Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle pot;

Gie little Kate her button gown
And Jock his Sunday coat;

And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw;

It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
For he's been long awa.

There's twa fat hens upo' the coop,
Been fed this month and mair;
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;

And mak our table neat and clean,

Let everything look braw,

For wha can tell how Colin fared

When he was far awa?

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech.

His breath like caller air;

His very foot has music in't

As he comes up the stair.
And shall I see his face again?
And shall I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy'wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!

The cauld blasts o' the winter wind,
That thirled through my heart,
They're a' blawn by, I hae him safe,
Till death we'll never part;

But what puts parting in my head?
It may be far awa!

The present moment is our ain,

The neist we never saw.

Since Colin's weel, and weel content,

I hae no mair to crave;

And gin I live to keep him sae,

I'm blest aboon the lave.

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.

For there's nae luck about th' house,
There's nae luck at a';

There's little pleasure in th' house

When our gudeman's awa.

Mickle.

G

GO, LOVELY ROSE!

O, lovely rose !

Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her, that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied,

That, hadst thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,

Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee,

How small a part of time they share

That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

Waller.