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With the joy of life and loving. Gretel wept in bower, apart, With her sad eyes full of sorrow, and a load upon her heart: Often, as she paced the forest, to that turret high she turnea Wistful eye and wishful bosom, where his night-lamp dimly
burned. Then she speeded up the stairway, in the gloaming, like a
ghost, Heeding not the spectral shadows in the corners, nor the
hosts Of grim steel-men,-empty armors,—to his turret-chamber
locked; Then she beat upon its portals; stood, and tremblingly sbe
knocked. Dear my lord !” she cried, entreating, “let me in! for 1 Pale with pining, sad with waiting for your coming, all
alone !" “Nay,” he answered Gretel sternly : “hearken to thy lord's
desireMeddle not with red-hot irons, lest your fingers touch the
fire !” Day by day the same stern answer, day by day more loud
she prayed At the Wizard's turret portal by its terrors undismayed; Till be yielded to her praying-for he loved her—though he
told Of strange horrors she must witness with a courage strong
and bold, And tried to intimidate her; but he only tried in vain : For she beat his portals louder, and besought him once
again. In that dim, mysterious chamber, with its awful gramarye, Gretel only clasped her hands, and begged its wonders
strange to see; Till worn out with her entreating, he consented to enact For his lady; so he cased him in his wondrous cataphract. Thence he spoke - involuntary fear began to blanch her
cheek: * When the spell is strong upon me, ye must neither scream
nor speak! Fearful things, as I have told ye, ere you forced me with
vour prayers, Must be seen by her who listens, who the Wizard's secret
shares ! When the spell is strong upon me, at the wonders you
shall see If ye lisp a cry of horror it will bring catastrophe !
'Neath this castle, unsuspected, lies a stream, which there
hath run Since the stars were lit in heaven and first blazed the virgin
sun! Bottomless it is, and inky-for there wafts it o'er a breath From the sluggish, dank miasma of the chilly land of deatŁ ! If ye speak or shriek or whisper when the evil spell is on, Up shall rise the lake—the castle shall be none, ere light
of dawn!" Grave she grew, but brave she listened to the wonders he
disclosed, As she knelt upon a divan, pale and outwardly composed. Now the formula is spoken--barred and locked the turret
door; and the Wizard's form lies writhing like a serpent on the
floor. Horrid ! how the scales so burnished on the cataphract, ap
palled, Rose and bristled-as the Wizard through the chamber, sinuous,
crawled ! Longer stretched his forin and thinner, yonder waved the
forky tail ! And the serpent's eyes fixed on her, made the Wizard's lady
quail Nearer came the human monster, till its hot breath fanned
her cheek, And the gaping jaws seemed ready some dark prophecy to
speak. Hush !-a cry. The spell is broken by the lady's piercing
shriek ! One loud crash, a sullen murmur sounded through that lonely
wood, And a coal-black tarn was dimpling where the castle lately
stood! And to-day the peasant, stopping, as he passes through that
vale, Pale with awe, in frightened murmurs, tells the traveler thu
GLORIA BELLI.-William J. BENNERS, JR.
Written expressly for this Collection.
The clash of arms
With stately step they pass us by, Each head with pride erected high ; Each eye with daring bravery fired; Each heart with deepest hate inspired, Hate to the foe they long to meet, The enemy they must defeat. Clear on their swords the sunlight glows And all their glittering armor shows, While every waving plume with dew Sparkles like diamonds through and through. Still swells the thrilling music, still The brilliant pageant passes, till The last plume glistens in the sun, The last sword flashes-they are gone! 'Tis night, the smoke has cleared away That hid the battle-field all day; And the pale moon looks coldy down On Victory with his bloody crown, Lighting the dreadful place where lie The dead and those who soon must die. White faces, stern in death, are there; Hands clasped and stiffened in despair, The veteran of many a fight; The boy with hair still childish bright; Rank's noblest sons, and those whose fame Is all forgotten, with their name; The sunburnt brow, the cheek of snow, Master and servant, friend and foeAre heaped together, pile on pile; The lips of some wreathed with a smile While others frown in rage and clutch Their swords, or on the trigger touch As if they just had sped the ball, And, dying, seen the foeman fall; Some limbless, some with shattered face; E'en those who loved them could not trace A feature, but would pass them by Shuddering, and with averted eye. Here is a headless body; there, A head with tangled bloody hair; And plumes, balls, sworils, torn banners, lie With mangled limbs, mixed horribly. But oh, the dying! there alone, Without a tear, or one kind tone,
Praying for water, all in vain
WAITING AT THE CHURCH DOOR.*
MRS. Alex. Mc Veigu MILLER.
In reverent silence, waiting there;
The brooding hush of earnest prayer.
How sad a fancy touched my soul,
With fears beyond my weak control.
From this chill earthly bondage free,
Would these closed doors swing wide for me? *Written expressly for this Collection,
Would angels barp my welcome home,
Or that dear Lord, tou oft forgot,
" Depart from me, I know you not.”
By one sharp pulse of agony,
Of that sad thought that came to me.
And rose the voice of praise in song,
I stood among the singing throng.
So weary of life's glare and din,
But “Knock and ye shall enter in.”
THE CHOIR'S WAY OF TELLING IT. Attending services not long ago in an elegant church edifice, where they worship God with taste in a highly æsthetic manner, the choir began that scriptural poem which compares Solomon with the lilies of the field somewhat to the former's disadvantage. Although not possessing a great admiration for Solomon, nor considering him a suitable person to hold up as a shining example -before the Young Men's Christian Association, still a pang of pity for him was felt when the choir, after expressing unbounded admiration for the lilies of the field, which it is doubtful if they ever observed very closely, began to tell the congregation, through the mouth of the soprano, that “Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed.” Straightway the soprano was re-inforced by the bass, who declared that Solomon was most decidedly and emphatically not arrayed, --was not arrayed. Then the alto ventured it as her opinion that Solomon was not arrayed; when the tenor, without a moment's hesitation, sung, as if