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Her voyage pursue-till her anchor be cast
In some cliff-girdled haven of beauty at last.

His
voyage
is o'er! As if struck by a spell
He motionless stands in the hush of the dell,
There safely and slowly sinks down on his breast,
In the midst of his pastime enamoured of rest.
A stream in a clear pool that endeth its race-
A dancing ray chained to one sunshiny place
A cloud by the winds to calm solitude driven
A hurricane dead in the silence of heaven!

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THE MOTHER'S RETURN.

BY MISS E. L. MONTAGU.

Он, we hae missed ye sair, Mither, the whiles ye hae been gane,

And sadly by the ingle nook my Father sat alane ; And oh how lanesome and how lang the weary hours hae been

Sin ye read me frae the picture-book the fairy tales at e'en.

Oh, we hae missed ye sair, Mither, while ye hae

been awa';

The bonnie doos ye loved to tend sat moping by the wa';

D

The merry, merry, minster bells mair sadly seemed to ring,

And the bullfinch wi' his mournfu' voice amaist forgot to sing.

Oh, Mither! we hae missed ye, sair, mair sairly than ye ken;

When the darksome winter night came on I sought for ye in vain :

I looked upon my Father's face, but tears were in

his ee,

And, Mither, when we knelt and prayed, our hearts were full o' thee.

But oh! I missed ye maist, Mither, when alane I

ganged to bed,

And the fond "Good-night!

evening prayer was said:

was over, and the

I dinna ken what made me greet, but mony a night

I wept,

And I thought how ye were used to come and kiss me ere I slept.

Then tell me, tell me, Mither dear, ye 'll gang nae mair awa',

But bide wi' me, and Father, and the bonnie doos and a' ;

And I'll promise ne'er again to greet, and ne'er, oh ne'er do wrang,

And again we'll a' be happy as the simmer days are

lang!"

TO THE RAINBOW.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.

TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.

Still seem as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given
For happy spirits to alight

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that Optics teach unfold
Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?

When Science from Creation's face Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws!

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High,

Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky.

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