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Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though childlike form !

The flames rolled on - he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He call'd aloud, "Say, father, say,
If yet my task is done!"

He knew not that the chieftain lay

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Unconscious of his son.

Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!

And"-but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair ;

And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair!

And shouted but once more aloud,

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'My father, must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.

They caught the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,

And streamed above the gallant child
Like banners in the sky.

Then came a burst of thunder sound -
The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds, that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!
With mast and helm and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered,

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain;
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track : 'Twas autumn- and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was

young;

I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers

sung.

Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part;

My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.

Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn, And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

A LITTLE GIRL'S

LAMENT FOR THE FAIRIES.

BY MRS. GORDON.

АH! where are all the fairies flown?
Why ceased their merry reign?
We're all so dull and solemn grown,
I wish they'd come again;

'Mid lawns and bowers, when daylight's done,
Once more to dance and play;
There never has been any fun,
Since fairies went away!

You weary me, you tiresome doll!
You cannot speak or walk;
A fairy's wand, my good Miss Poll,
Would soon have made you talk!

Then you and I, so merrily,

Had sported all the day;

But now, oh dear! that cannot be,
The fairies are away.

Now, there are none of them to ask
For water from the well;

No diamonds now reward the task,
As Mother Goose doth tell;

No toads the naughty lips disgrace,

That say a sulky nay;

This world is quite a stupid place,

Now fairies are away.

We cannot meet them at a spring,
When drawing water out;
For water to our doors we bring

By leaden pipe or spout.

One still finds toads; I've seen them crawl About, at close of day;

But diamonds,—none; they vanished all

When fairies went away.

There's puss sits purring by the fire,

Or chases mice and rats;

The stupid thing! I do so tire
Of these dull, common cats!

A cleverer one my fancy suits,
Who can do more than play;
But, ah! there is no Puss in Boots,
Since fairies went away.

The bean-stalks in our gardens all,
How widely Jack's outshone 'em ;
Ours grow so slowly — never tall, —

And nought save beans upon 'em ;

No wealthy giants at the top,

No gold,

-no harps to play,—

We'll ne'er see such another crop,

Now fairies are away!

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