Ye scenes of tranquillity, long have we parted;
My hopes almost gone, and my parents no more;
In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted,

And wander unknown on a far distant shore.
Yet how can I doubt a dear Saviour's protection,
Forgetful of gifts from his bountiful hand!
O, let me, with patience, receive his correction,
And think of the bible, that lay on the stand;
That richest of books, which excelled every
That family bible, that lay on the stand.

other

THE REED-SPARROW'S NEST.

I.

"COME here, and I'll show you a wonderful workI'll show you the reed-sparrow's nest;

Only see what a neat, warm, compact little thing! Mister Nash could not build such a house for the King:

Not he, let him labour his best!

II.

""Tis hardly a house, though-a cradle, methinks,
Slung up like an Indian's, between
Those six reedy pillars, so slender and tall,
Each topped, like a turret of Oberon's hall,
With its own fairy-banner of green.

III.

"And see! the green banners are waving aloft And the cradle rocks gently below;

And the shafts that uphold it, so slender and tall”— "They're bending!-they're breaking!-the cradle will fall,

For the breeze is beginning to blow!"

IV.

"Let it blow, let it blow: let them rock to and fro; Reeds, cradle, and all-never fear :

'Twas an instinct unerring (God's gift to the weak) Taught the poor little builder this covert to seek, That the hurricane only comes near

V.

"Only near enough (hark!) just to pipe in the shrowds, The tall tree tops, with musical din:

And to rattle the hazels and hollies about,
And behind them to bluster and make a great rout,
Like a bully who cannot get in.

VI.

"And to puff here and there, through a chink in the leaves,

At the reeds, and the reed-sparrow's nest; Just enough to unfurl the green banners aloft, And to balance the cradle, with motion so soft, It but lulls the young nurslings to rest.

VII.

"And there sits the mother-bird, brooding in peace, And her mate is beginning to sing

Proud I warrant is he, of house, children, and wife; Of the house he helped build,-Mister Nash for his life,

Could not build such a one for the King!

GESLER AND ALBERT.

[Gesler with a hunting pole.]

Ges. ALONE-alone! and every step, the mist Thickens around me! On these mountain tracts

To lose one's way, they say, is sometimes death! What, hoa! Holloa! No tongue replies to me! What thunder hath the horror of this silence! 'I dare not stop-the day, though not half run, 'Is not less sure to end his course; and night, Dreary when through the social haunts of men 'Her solemn darkness walks, in such a place 'As this, comes wrapped in most appalling fear.' I dare not stop-nor dare I yet proceed, Begirt with hidden danger: if I take This hand, it carries me still deeper into The wild and savage solitudes I'd shun, Where once to faint with hunger is to die : If this, it leads me to the precipice,

Whose brink with fatal horror rivets him

That treads upon 't, till drunk with fear, he reels
Into the gaping void, and headlong down

Plunges to still more hideous death. Cursed slaves,
To let me wander from them! Hoa-holloa !—

My voice sounds weaker to mine ear; I've not
The strength to call I had, and through my limbs
Cold tremor runs- -and sickening faintness seizes
On my heart. O Heaven, have mercy! Do not see
The color of the hands I lift to thee!

Look only on the strait wherein I stand,
And pity it! Let me not sink-Uphold!
Support me! Mercy!-Mercy!

[He stands stupified with terror and exhaustion. Albert enters with his hunting pole, not at first seeing Gesler.]

Alb. I'll breathe upon this level, if the wind

Will let me.

Ha! a rock to shelter me!

Thanks to 't—a man! and fainting. Courage, friend! Courage. A stranger that has lost his way

Take heart-take heart: you're safe.

now?

Ges. Better.

How feel

you

Alb. You've lost your way upon the hill?

Ges. I have.

Alb. And whither would you go?

Ges. To Altorf.

Alb. I'll guide you thither.

Ges. You're a child.

Alb. I know

The way; the track I've come is harder far
To find.

Ges. The track you've come! what mean you?
Sure you
have not been still farther in the mountains?
Alb. I've travelled from Mount Faigel.

Ges. No one with thee?

Alb. No one but HIM.

Ges. Do you not fear these storms?

Alb. He's in the storm.

Ges. And there are torrents, too,

That must be crossed?

Alb. He's by the torrent, too.

Ges. You're but a child!

Alb. He will be with a child.

Ges. You're sure you know the way?

Alb. 'Tis but to keep

The side of yonder stream.

Ges. But guide me safe,

I'll give thee gold.

Alb. I'll guide thee safe without.

Ges. Here's earnest for thee. Here-I'll double

that,

Yea, treble it—but let me see the gate

Of Altorf.

Take it.

Why do you refuse the gold?

Alb. No.

Ges. You shall.

Alb. I will not.

Ges. Why?

Alb. Because

I do not covet it;-and though I did,
It would be wrong to take it as the price
Of doing one a kindness.

Ges. Ha!-who taught

Thee that?

Alb. My father.

Ges. Does he live in Altorf?
Alb. No; in the mountains.
Ges. How-a mountaineer?

He should become a tenant of the city:
He'd gain by't.

Alb. Not so much as he might lose by't.
Ges. What might he lose by't?

Alb. Liberty.

Ges. Indeed!

He also taught thee that?

Alb. He did.

Ges. His name?

Alb. This is the way to Altorf, Sir.

Ges. I'd know

Thy father's name.

Alb. The day is wasting-we.

Have far to go.

Ges. Thy father's name? I say.
Alb. I will not tell it thee.

Ges. Not tell it me!

Why?

Alb. You may be an enemy of his.
Ges. May be a friend.

Alb. May be; but should you be