The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high:

Bright reason will mock thee

Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter

Will rot, and thine eagle home

Leave thee naked to laughter,

When leaves fall and cold winds come.

LOOK ALOFT.

J. LAWRENCE

In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail-
If thine eye should grow dim and thy caution depart—
"Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart.
If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe,
Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed,
"Look aloft" to the friendship which never shall fade.
Should the visions which Hope spreads in light to thine eye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly,
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret,
"Look aloft" to the Sun that is never to set.

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart-
Thy friends and companions-in sorrow depart,
"Look aloft" from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where 66 affection is ever in bloom."

And, oh! when Death comes in his terrors, to cast
His fears on the future, his pall on the past,
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, "LOOK ALOFT," and depart.

THE THREE SONS OF BUDRYS.

Translated from the Polish of Adam Michaewitz.

With his three mighty sons, tall as Ludwig's were once, To the courtyard old Budrys advances;

"Your best steeds forth lead ye; to saddle them speed ye, And sharpen your swords and your lances.

Hie away, safe and sound, serve your dear native ground,
And the high powers Liteuchian defend ye;

Tho' at home I must tarry, my counsel forth carry,
Ye are three, and three ways ye must wend ye.
Unto Olgierd's Russ plain one of ye must amain,
To where Ilmen and Novgorod tower;

There are sables for plunder, vails worked to a wonder,
And of coin have the merchants a power.

Let another essay to Prince Kiestup his way,
To whose corsleted dogs* bitter geal;

There is amber like gravel, cloth worthy to travel,
And priests decked in diamond and jewel.
Unto Pole Shirgiel's part let the third hero start,

Where the dwellings but poorly are furnished;
So choose ye there, rather, and bring to your father
Keen sabres and bucklers high burnished.

But bring home, above all, Laskian girls to our hall,
More sprightly than fawns in fine weather;
The hues of the morning their cheeks are adorning,
Their eyes are like stars of the ether."

Now, advised them he hath, so he blesseth their path,
And away they high-spirited rattle;

Grim Winter comes chiding-of them there's no tiding,
Says Budrys, "They've fallen in battle!"

Like an avalanche in might to the gate spurs a knight,
And beneath his wide mantle he's laden;

"Hast thou Russian money? The roubles so bonny?"
"No, no! I've a Laskian maiden!"

* Knights of the German order.

Like an avalanche's might riding comes an armed knight,
And beneath his wide mantle he's laden;

"From the German, brave fellow, bring'st amber so yellow?" 66 No, no! Here's a Laskian maiden!"

Like an avalanche of snow the third rideth up now,

Nor has he, as it seemeth, been idle;
As his booty he showeth, old Budrys halloeth,
To bid guests for the fair triple bridal.

LOCHINVAR.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west!
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone!
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar !
He staid not for brake and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Esk river where ford there was none-
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented !--the gallant came late!—
For, a laggard in love and a dastard in war
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar!

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,

'Mong bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword-
For the poor, craven bridegroom said never a word-
"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war?—
Or to dance at our bridal?-young Lord Lochinvar!"
"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied:
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!-
There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!"

The bride kissed the goblet! The knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine and he threw down the cup!
She looked down to blush and she looked up to sigh—
With a smile on her lip and a tear in her eye.

He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,

That never a hall such a galliard did grace!

While her mother did fret and her father did fume,

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar !”

One touch to her hand and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near— So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur!
They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan :
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea-
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

DEATH'S RAMBLE.

One day the dreary old King of Death
Inclined for some sport with the carnal,
So he tied a pack of darts on his back,
And quietly stole from his charnel.

His head was bald of flesh and of hair,
His body was lean and lank,

THOMAS HOOD.

His joints at each stir made a crack, and the cur
Took a gnaw, by the way, at his shank.

And what did he do with his deadly darts-
This goblin of grisly bone?

He dabbled and spilled man's blood, and he killed
Like a butcher that kills his own.

The first he slaughtered it made him laugh,

(For the man was a coffin maker),

To think how the mutes and men in black suits
Would mourn for an undertaker.

Death saw two Quakers sitting at church,
Quoth he, "We shall not differ."
And he let them alone, like figures of stone,
For he could not make them stiffer.

He saw two duelists going to fight,

In fear they could not smother;

And he shot one through at once-for he knew
They never would shoot each other.

He saw a watchman fast in his box,

And he gave a snore infernal;

Said Death, "He may keep his breath, for his sleep Can never be more eternal."

He met a coachman driving his coach,

So slow that his fare grew sick;
But he let him stray on his tedious way,

For Death only wars on the quick.

Death saw a toll-man taking a toll,

In the spirit of his fraternity;

But he knew that sort of man would extort,
Though summoned to all eternity.

He found an author writing his life,
But he let him write no further;

For Death, who strikes whenever he likes,
Is jealous of all self-murther!

Death saw a patient that pulled out his purse,
And a doctor that took the sum;

But he let them be-for he knew that the "fee"
Was a prelude to "faw" and "fum."