With face against the pane;

You cannot see the men that drown
By the Beacon in the rain!

From a shoal of richest rubies

Breaks the morning clear and cold;.
And the angel on the village spire,
Frost-touched, is bright as gold.
Four ancient fishermen,

In the pleasant autumn air,
Come toiling up the sands,
With something in their hands,—
Two bodies stark and white,
Ah, so ghastly in the light,
With sea-weed in their hair!

O ancient fishermen,

Go up to yonder cot!
You'll find a little child,

With face against the pane,
Who looks toward the beach,
And, looking, sees it not.
She will never watch again!
Never watch and weep at night!
For those pretty, saintly eyes
Look beyond the stormy skies,
And they see the Beacon Light.

T. B. Aldrich.

THE GAME KNUT PLAYED.

A PAGE who seemed of low degree,
And bore the name of Knut, was he;
The high-born Princess Hilga she.

And that the youth had served her long,
Being quick at errands, skilled in song,
To jest with him she thought no wrong.

And so it chanced one summer day,
At chess, to while the time away,
The page and princess sat at play.

At length she said, "To play for naught
Is only sport to labor brought,

So let a wager guerdon thought."

He answered, "Lady, naught have I
Whose worth might tempt a princess high
Her uttermost of skill to try."

"And yet this ruby ring," she said,

"I'll risk against the bonnet red

With snow-white plume that crowns thy head.

"And should I win, do not forget, Or should I lose, whichever yet, I'll take my due, or pay my debt."

And so they played, as sank the sun;
But when the game they played was done,
The page's cap the princess won.

My diamond necklace," then she cried, “I'll match against thy greatest pride, The brand held pendent at thy side."

"Not so," he said-" that tempered glaive,
Borne oft by noble hands and brave,
To me my dying father gave.

"Fit only for a true man's touch,
I hold it dear and prize it much-

No diamond necklace mates with such.

But, though my father's ghost be wroth, I'll risk the weapon, nothing loth,

Against thy love and virgin troth.”

Reddened her cheeks at this in ire,
This daughter of a royal sire,

And flashed those eyes of hers like fire.

66

Thy words, bold youth, shall work thee ill : Thou canst not win against my skill,

But I can punish at my will.

"Begin the game; that hilt so fine Shall nevermore kiss hand of thine, Nor thou again be page of mine !”

Answered the page: "Do not forget,
Or win or lose, whichever yet,
I'll take my due, or pay my debt.

"And let this truth the end record:
I risk to-day my father's sword
To be no more thy page, but lord."

Down sat the pair to play once more,
Hope in his bosom brimming o'er,
And hers with pride and anger sore.

From square to square the bishops crept,
The agile knights eccentric leapt,

The castles onward stately swept.

Pawns fell in combat one by one;

Knights, rooks, and bishops could not shun Their fate before that game was done.

Well fought the battle was, I ween,
Until two castles and a queen
Guarding the kings alone were seen.

"Check!" cried the princess, all elate; "Check!" cried the page, and sealed the fate Of her beleaguered king with "mate!"

The princess smiled, and said: "I lose,
Nor can I well to pay refuse-
From my possessions pick and choose.

"Or diamonds bright, or chests of gold, Or strings of pearls of worth untold, These may be thine to have and hold:

"Or costly robes to feed thy pride, Or coursers such as monarchs ride, Or castles tall, or manors wide—

"Any or all of such be thine;

But, save he spring from royal line,
No husband ever can be mine."

"Nor jewels rich, nor lands in fee, Steeds, robes, nor castles pleasure me; Thy love and troth be mine," said he.

"Nor shalt thou lack of state and pride When seated crowned thy lord beside, As Knut, the King of Denmark's bride!"

Ring marriage-bells from sun to sun,
And tell the gossips, as they run,
How Sweden's princess has been won.

LITTLE Ellie sits alone

'Mid the beeches of a meadow,
By a stream-side on the grass,
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow,
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been
In the shallow wat