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How the world's first children ran
Laughing from the monkey-man,
Little Abel and his brother,

Laughing, shouting to their mother.

And could you keep down your mirth When the floods were on the earth; When from all your drowning kin, Good old Noah took you in?

In the very Ark, no doubt,
You went frolicking about,
Never keeping in your mind
Drowned monkeys left behind!

No, we cannot hear of this;
Gone are all the witnesses;
But I'm very sure that you
Made both mirth and mischief too.

Have ye no traditions, none,

Of the court of Solomon ?

No memorial how ye went

With Prince Hiram's armament?

Were ye given or were ye sold
With the peacocks and the gold?
Is it all forgotten quite,

'Cause ye neither read nor write?

Look now at him! slyly peep,
He pretends he is asleep;
Fast asleep upon his bed,

With his arm beneath his head.

Now that posture is not right,
And he is not settled quite;
There! that's better than before
And the knave pretends to snore.

Ha! he is not half asleep!

See he slyly takes a peep.

Monkey, though your eyes were shut,

You could see this little nut.

You shall have it, pigmy brother.
What another? and another?
Nay, your cheeks are like a sack,
Sit down and begin to crack.

There, the little ancient man
Cracks as fast as crack he can;
Now good-by, you merry fellow,
Nature's primest punchinello!

AN ENGLISH FIRESIDE.

BY SAMUEL ROGERS.

Ar night, when all, assembling round the fire,
Closer and closer draw till they retire,

A tale is told of India or Japan,

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Of merchants from Golcond or Astracan;
What time wild Nature revelled unrestrained: -
And Sinbad voyaged, and the Caliphs reigned:
Of knights renowned from holy Palestine,
And minstrels, such as swept the lyre divine,
When Blondel came, and Richard in his cell
Heard, as he lay, the song he knew so well:
Of some Norwegian, while the icy gale
Rings in her shrouds and beats her iron-sail,
Among the snowy Alps of Polar seas
Immoveable-for ever there to freeze!
Or some great caravan, from well to well
Winding as darkness on the desert fell,

In their long march, such as the prophet bids,
To Mecca from the land of pyramids,

And in an instant lost- a hollow wave

Of burning sand their everlasting grave!
Now the scene shifts to Venice

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Glittering with light, all nations masking there, With light reflected on the tremulous tide, Where gondolas in gay confusion glide, Answering the jest, the song on every side;

To Naples next- - and at the crowded gate,
Where Grief and Fear and wild Amazement wait,
Lo, on his back a son brings in his sire,
Vesuvius blazing like a world on fire!
Then, at a sign that never was forgot,

A strain breaks forth (who hears and loves it not?)
From harp or organ! 'Tis at parting given,
That in their slumbers they may dream of heaven;
Young voices mingling, as it floats along,

In Tuscan air or Handel's sacred song!

ADDRESS TO A WILD DEER.

BY PROFESSOR WILSON.

MAGNIFICENT creature! so stately and bright,
In the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy flight;
For what has the child of the desert to dread,
Wafting up his own mountains that far-beaming
head,

Or borne like a whirlwind down on the vale?-
Hail! King of the wild and the beautiful! hail!

-

- Hail! idol divine!- whom Nature hath borne O'er a hundred hill-tops since the mists of the morn, Whom the pilgrim long wandering on mountain and

moor,

As the vision glides by him, may blameless adore; For the joy of the happy, the strength of the free, Are spread in a garment of glory o'er thee.

Up! up to yon cliff! like a king to his throne,
O'er the black silent forest piled lofty and lone;
A throne which the eagle is glad to resign

Unto footsteps so fleet and so fearless as thine.
There the bright heather springs up in love of thy
breast

Lo! the clouds in the depths of the sky are at rest : And the race of the wild winds is o'er on the hill! In the hush of the mountains, yet antlers lie still Though your branches now toss in the storm of

delight,

Like the arms of the pine on yon shelterless height: One moment thou bright apparition ! - delay! Then melt o'er the crags, like the sun from the day.

Aloft on the weather gleam, scorning the earth, That wild spirit hung in majestical mirth: In dalliance with danger, he bounded in bliss, O'er the fathomless gloom of each moaning abyss ; O'er the grim rocks careering with prosperous motion, Like a ship by herself in full sail o'er the ocean. Then proudly he turned ere he sank to the dell, And shook from his forehead a haughty farewell, While his horns in a crescent of radiance shone, Like a flag burning bright when the vessel is gone.

The ship of the desert hath passed on the wind, And left the dark ocean of mountains behind : But my spirit will travel wherever she flee; And behold her in pomp o'er the rim of the sea!

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