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Here lurks the dark savage
By night and by day,
To rob and to ravage,
Nor scruples to slay.
He waits for the slaughter:
The blood of his prey
Shall stain the still water,-
Then drink and away.

With toil though thou languish,

The mandate obey,
Spur on, though in anguish,
There's death in delay!

No bloodhound, want-wasted,
Is fiercer than they :-
Pass by it untasted-
Or, drink and away.

Though sore be the trial,
Thy God is thy stay,
Though deep the denial,
Yield not in dismay,
But, wrapt in high vision,

Look on to the day
When the fountains Elysian

Thy thirst shall allay.

There shalt thou for ever

Enjoy thy repose

Where life's gentle river
Eternally flows.

Yea, there shalt thou rest thee
For ever and aye,

With none to molest thee,-
Then drink and away.

THE WIFE'S SONG.

BY WILLIAM LEGGETT.

As the tears of the even,
Illumined at day

By the sweet light of heaven,

Seem gems on each spray; So gladness to-morrow

Shall shine on thy brow, The more bright for the sorrow That darkens it now.

Yet if fortune, believe me,

Have evil in store,

Though each other deceive thee,

I'll love thee the more.

As ivy leaves cluster

More greenly and fair, When winter winds bluster

Round trees that are bare.

I KNOW THAT THOU ART FAR AWAY.

BY JAMES NACK.

I KNOW that thou art far away,
Yet in my own despite

My still expectant glances stray

Inquiring for thy sight.

Though all too sure that thy sweet face

Can bless no glance of mine,

At every turn, in every place,
My eyes are seeking thine.

I hope-how vain the hope, I know-
That some propitious chance
May bring thee here again to throw
Thy sweetness on my glance.
But, loveliest one, where'er thou art,
Whate'er be my despair,

Mine eyes will seek thee, and my heart
Will love thee every where.

A HEALTH.

BY MISS ELIZABETH C. CLINCH.

FILL high the cup!-the young and gay
Are met with bounding hearts to-night;
And sunny smiles around us play,

And eyes are sparkling bright:
Let wit and song the hours beguile,
But yet, amid this festal cheer,
Oh, let us pause to think awhile
Of him who is not here.

Fill high the cup!—yet ere its brim

One young and smiling lip has pressed,
Oh, pledge each sparkling drop to him
Now far o'er ocean's breast!
The cordial wish each lip repeats,
By every heart is echoed here;
For none within this circle beats,
To whom he is not dear.

A sudden pause in festive glee

What thought hath hushed the thought of mirth, Hath checked each heart's hilarity,

And given to sadness birth?
O! read it in the shades that steal
Across each animated brow;
The wish none utters, yet all feel,

"Would he were with us now!"

Yet chase away each vain regret,
And let each heart be gay;

Trust me,

the meeting hour shall yet

Each anxious thought repay.

Is not his spirit with us now?

Yes! wheresoe'er his footsteps roam, The wanderer's yearning heart can know No resting-place-but home!

Then smile again, and let the song

Pour forth its music sweet and clearWhat magic to those notes belong Which thus chain every ear!

Soft eyes are filled with tears-what spell
So suddenly hath called them there?
That strain-ah, yes! we know it well;
It is his favourite air.

With every note how forcibly

Return the thoughts of other days!
The shaded brow, the drooping eye,
Are present to our gaze.

With all around his looks are blent;
His form, is it not gliding there?
And was it not his voice which sent
That echo on the air?

One wish, with cordial feeling fraught Breathe we for him ere yet we part, That for each high and generous thought That animates his heart,

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