ODE TO THE MOON.

BY ROBERT M. BIRD.

O MELANCHOLY Moon,

Queen of the midnight, though thou palest away
Far in the dusky west, to vanish soon
Under the hills that catch thy waning ray,
Still art thou beautiful beyond all spheres,
The friend of grief, and confidant of tears.

Mine earliest friend wert thou:

My boyhood's passion was to stretch me under

The locust tree, and, through the chequered bough, Watch thy far pathway in the clouds, and wonder At thy strange loveliness, and wish to be

The nearest star to roam the heavens with thee.

Youth grew; but as it came,

And sadness with it, still, with joy, I stole

To gaze, and dream, and breathe perchance the name That was the early music of my soul,

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ODE TO THE MOON.

And seemed upon thy pictured disk to trace
Remembered features of a radiant face.

And manhood, though it bring

A winter to my bosom, cannot turn

Mine eyes from thy lone loveliness; still spring

My tears to meet thee, and the spirit stern Falters, in secret, with the ancient thrill

The boyish yearning to be with thee still.

Would it were so; for earth

Grows shadowy, and her fairest planets fail;

And her sweet chimes, that once were woke to mirth,

Turn to a moody melody of wail,

And through her stony throngs I go alone,
Even with the heart I cannot turn to stone.

Would it were so; for still

Thou art my only counsellor, with whom Mine eyes can have no bitter shame to fill, Nor my weak lips to murmur at the doom Of solitude, which is so sad and sore, Weighing like lead upon my bosom's core.

A boyish thought, and weak :-
I shall look up to thee from the deep sea,
And in the land of palms, and on the peak

LINES.

Of her wild hills, still turn my eyes to thee;
And then perhaps lie down in solemn rest,
With nought but thy pale beams upon my breast.

Let it be so indeed!

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Earth hath her peace beneath the trampled stone; And let me perish where no heart shall bleed, And nought, save passing winds, shall make my moan, No tears, save night's, to wash my humble shrine, And watching o'er me, no pale face but thine.

LINES.

BY LUCY HOOPER.

GIVE me armour of proof, I must ride to the plain; Give me armour of proof, ere the trump sound again: To the halls of my childhood no more am I known, And the nettle must rise where the myrtle hath blown, Till the conflict is over, the battle is past

Give me armour of proof-I am true to the last!

Give me armour of proof-bring me helmet and spear;
Away! shall the warrior's cheek own a tear?
Bring the steel of Milan-'tis the firmest and best,

And bind o'er my bosom its closely linked vest,
Where the head of a loved one in fondness hath lain,
Whose tears fell at parting like warm summer rain!

Give me armour of proof-I have torn from my heart
Each soft tie and true that forbade me to part:

Bring the sword of Damascus, its blade cold and bright,
That bends not in conflict, but gleams in the fight;
And stay-let me fasten your scarf on my breast,
Love's light pledge and true-I will answer the rest!

Give me armour of proof!—shall the cry be in vain,
When to life's sternest conflicts we rush forth amain?
The knight clad in armour the battle may bide;
But wo to the heedless when bendeth the tried;
And wo to youth's morn, when we rode forth alone,
To the conflict unguarded, its gladness hath flown!

Give us armour of proof-our hopes were all high;
But they passed like the meteor lights from the sky;
Our hearts' trust was firm, but life's waves swept away,
One by one the frail ties which were shelter and stay;
And true was our love, but its bonds broke in twain,—
Give me armour of proof, ere we ride forth again.

Give me armour of proof-we would turn from the view,
Of a world that is fading to one that is true;
We would lift up each thought from this earth-shaded light,
To the regions above, where there stealeth no blight;
And with Faith's chosen shield by no dark tempests riven,
We would gaze from Earth's storms on the brightness of
Heaven.

LY one night at sea,"

Twas thus the promise ran,
By frail presumptuous mortal given,

To vain, confiding man,

Only one night at sea,

And land shall bless thy sight, When morning's rays dispel

The shadows of that night."

P.