The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance! Rouse, ye Romans! rouse, ye slaves!
Have
ye
brave sons?—Look, in the next fierce brawl,
To see them die! Have ye daughters fair?— Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored and, if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome,
That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne
Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans !
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman

And once again,

Was greater than a king!
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus ! once again I swear,
The eternal city shall be free! her sons
Shall walk with princes!

MISS MITFORD.

THE APPEAL OF THE CHILDREN.

GIVE us light amid our darkness;
Let us know the good from ill
Hate us not for all our blindness;
Love us, lead us, show us kindness
You can make us what you will.

We are willing, we are ready ;

We would learn, if you would teach :
We have hearts that yearn towards duty;
We have minds alive to beauty;

Souls that any heights can reach !

Raise us by your Christian knowledge:
Consecrate to man our powers;

Let us take our proper station;
We, the rising generation,

Let us stamp the age as ours!

We shall be what you will make us:
Make us wise, and make us good!
Make us strong for time of trial;
Teach us temperance, self-denial,
Patience, kindness, fortitude!

Look into our childish faces;
See ye not our willing hearts?
Only love us only lead us
Only let us know you need us,
And we all will do our parts.

MARY HOWITT.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track;
'Twas autumn

and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore

From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart.

Stay, stay with us rest, thou art weary and worn; And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

CAMPBELL.

GOOD ADVICE.

YE who would save your features florid,
Lithe limbs, bright eyes, unwrinkled forehead,
From Age's devastation horrid,

Adopt this plan:

'T will make, in climate cold or torrid,
A hale old man.

Avoid in youth luxurious diet;

Restrain the passions' lawless riot ;

Devoted to domestic quiet,

Be wisely gay;

So shall ye, spite of Age's fiat,
Resist decay.

Seek not in Mammon's worship pleasure,
But find a far superior treasure

In books, friends, music, polished leisure :
The mind, not sense,

Make the sole scale by which ye measure
Your opulence.

This is the solace, this the science,
With trust in God, life's best appliance,
That disappoints not man's reliance,
Whate'er his state;

But challenges, with calm defiance,
Time, fortune, fate.

HORACE SMITH.

THE REFORMED LAP-DOG.

A RICH old lady's pampered dog
Lay on his cushion like a log.
Sick with indulgences and ease,
And cross, and difficult to please,
So fat and lazy was he grown,
Scarce could he waddle up and down.

Minions who cease to be protected
May soon expect to be neglected.
Old madam died; and then poor Tray
Was cuffed and kicked, and sent away
A laborer in the neighborhood,
To whom the lady had been good,
Received him in his little shed;
Where, hardly lodged, and scantly fed,
Air, exercise, and temperate board,
Tray's health and spirits soon restored.
Contented in a cottage more

Than with his luxuries before,
His playful tricks and ready glee
Delighted all the family.

O, parents! heed the lap-dog's fate,
And check, before it is too late,

The hand that to the young would give
The means luxuriously to live.

Ease, indolence, and dainty fare,
Their health and vigor must impair.
The tempting food, the pampered state,
Must soon a thousand ills create.

To make us what we ought to be,
No school is like adversity.

THE TRUE LIFE.

Ir we would judge of the rate at which we are living, we are to look not at the growth or the decay of the frame, the tightening or slackening of the sinews, but at the emotions. that play most freely through our hearts, and the actions we achieve. Count not your birth-days, but the number of hearts you have blessed, and the holy impulses you have set in motion, if you would know how old you are!

"Life's more than breath and the quick round of blood;

'Tis a great spirit and a busy heart.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths ;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.”

The memorial of goodness is everlasting. Whoever bears a working hand and a large love through the world, shall make eternal room for himself in its memory. Whoever speaks fruitful words, so laden with truth that they plant themselves in the hearts of other men with an immovable lodgment, and strike root there, shall realize the fulfillment of the inarticulate prophecy within him, and shall not wholly die, even out of this scene of his present habitation.

HUNTINGTON.