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THE MELLOW HORN.
BY GEORGE W. HYATT.
Ar dawn, Aurora gaily breaks,
In all her proud attire,
Reflecting liquid fire;
The blushing queen of morn,
To wind the Mellow Horn.
At eve when gloomy shades obscure
The tranquil shepherd's cot, When tinkling bells are heard no more,
And daily toil forgot ; 'Tis then the sweet enchanting note,
On zephyrs gently borne, With witching cadence seems to float
Around the Mellow Horn.
At night when all is hushed and drear,
And starlight on the deep; When lambkins housed from every fear,
Are lulled in balmy sleep; 'Tis then the plighted lover flies,
With flaxen locks unshorn, Beneath the cottage window sighs,
And winds the Mellow Horn.
THE SNOW DROP.
BY MISS HELEN MATHEWS.
A SNOW-FLAKE fell from the summer sky,
As though it had burst its chain,
Until winter appears again.
It chanced to fall in a garden fair,
Where every flowret grew, Watched by a guardian angel's care,
Who bathed them all in dew;
It rested near a blooming rose,
That shed its fragrance round, Folding its leaves in soft repose
To a fountain's silvery sound.
The angel smiled on it resting there,
And thus addressed the snow :“What dost thou here, fair child of air,
While the summer sunbeams glow?"
The snow-flake said, “Thy flowers have died,
“ From the scorching sun on high; “And, when above, I have often sighed “ To see their colours fly.
“ Then I vowed to visit the earth, and give
** New life to each rosy flower, “Bidding each drooping blossom live
“To deck the angel's bower.”
As the snow-flake spake; the flowers, that lay
All withering on the ground,
And brightness reigned around.
Then the angel said, “If thou'lt stay with me,
“ Sweet pitying spirit of air, “A beauteous form I'll give to thee,
“ Than all these flowers more fair."
Waving her hand, there rose to view,
In the place where the snow-flake came, A pure white flower, fresh crowned with dew;
And the SNOW-DROP is its name.
THE CAPTIVE CHIEF.
BY WILLIAM PITT PALMER.
PALE was the hue of his faded cheek,
As it leaned on its cold damp pillow; And deep the heave of its troubled breast,
As the lift of the ocean billow :
For he thought of the days when his restless foot
Through the pathless forest bounded, And the festive throng by the hunting-fire,
Where the chase-song joyously sounded.
He had stood in the deadly ambuscade,
While his warriors were falling around him ; He had stood unmoved at the torturing stake,
Where the foe in his wrath had bound him; He had mocked at pain in every form
Had joyed in the post of danger; But his spirit was crushed by the dungeon's gloom,
And the chain of the ruthless stranger.
BY J. K. PAULDING.
MARRIAGE is like a flaming candle-light
BY JOHN 0. SARGENT.
SLEEP on-sleep happily on,
Untroubled by the cares of day,
Then to me!
Dream on-but dream of me!
As all my dreams of dear delight,
Are of thee!
HER LOVER DIED.
BY. J. G. WHITTIER.
Her lover died. Away from her,
The ocean-girls his requiem sang, And smoothed his dreamless sepulchre
Where the tall coral branches sprang.