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THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

THE stately homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land!

The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England !

Around their hearths by night,

What gladsome looks of household love

Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tale is told,

Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.

The cottage homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They're smiling o'er the silvery brook,
And round the hamlet-fanes :
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,

Each from its nook of leaves;

And fearless there the lowly sleep

As birds beneath their eaves.

The free fair homes of England!
Long, long, in hut and hall
May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall!
And green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God.

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT.

AVE MARIA ! maiden mild !

Listen to a maiden's prayer;
Thou canst hear, though from the wild ;
Thou canst save, amid despair.
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,

Though banished, outcast, and reviled ; Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;

Mother! hear a suppliant child.

Ave Maria!

AVE MARIA! undefiled!

The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem with down of eider piled,

If thy protection hover there.

The murky cavern's heavy air

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; Then maiden, hear a maiden's prayer;

Mother! list a suppliant child.

Ave Maria!

AVE MARIA! stainless styled!
Foul demons of the earth and air,
From this their wonted haunt exiled,
Shall flee before thy presence fair.
We bow us to thy doom of care,
Beneath thy guidance reconciled ;
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer,
And for a father hear a child!

Ave Maria!

THE BETTER LAND.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

"I HEAR thee speak of the better land, Thou callest its children a happy band; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows? And the fire-flies glance through the myrtleboughs?"

"Not there, not there, my child!"

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"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?

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-“Not there, not there, my child!”

"Is it far away in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?" -"Not there, not there, my child !”

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Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, It is there, it is there, my child!"

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MAY DAY.

FROM A PAINTING BY LESLIE.

BY MISS LANDON.

BEAUTIFUL and radiant May,
Is not this thy festal day?
Is not this spring revelry
Held in honour, Queen, of thee?
'Tis a Fair; the booths are gay
With green boughs and quaint display;
Glasses, where the maiden's eye
May her own sweet face espy;
Ribands for her braided hair ;
Beads to grace her bosom fair;
From yon stand the juggler plays
With the rustic crowd's amaze;
There the morris-dancers stand,
Glad bells ringing on each hand;
Here the maypole rears its crest,
With the rose and hawthorn drest;
And beside are painted bands
Of strange beasts from other lands.
In the midst, like the young Queen,
Flower crowned, of the rural green,
Is a bright-cheeked girl, her eye
Blue, like April's morning sky,
With a blush, like that the rose
To her moonlight minstrel shows ;

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