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THE COTTAGE GIRL.
A child beside a hamlet's fount at play,
What had the scene for memory to recall, With a fond look of love? What secret spell With the heart's pictures bade its image dwell ? What but the spirit of the joyous child, That freshly forth o'er stream and verdure smiled, Casting upon the common things of earth A brightness, born and gone with infant mirth!
THE CROSS IN THE WILDERNESS
SILENT and mournful sat an Indian chief,
In the red sunset, by a grassy toinb;
And his arms folded in majestic gloom,
Telling the cedars and the pines that there
And lifted from the dust a voice of prayer.
And he too paused in reverence by that grave,
Between the forest and the lake's bright wave;
« I listened for the words, which years ago Passed o'er these waters; though the voice is filed
Which made them as a singing fountain's flow;
I was an eagle in my youthful pride,
To dwell amidst us on the lake's green side.
66 Not with the hunter's bow and spear he came,
O'er the blue hills to chase the flying roe;
Laying their cedars like the corn-stalks low;
I and my brethren that from earth are gone,
Seems through their gloom to send a silvery tone ? He told of One, the grave's dark bands who broke, And our hearts burned within us as he spoke! “He told of far and sunny lands, which lie
Beyond the dust wherein our fathers dwell, Bright must they be! for there are none that die,
And none that weep, and none that say, 'Farewell!' He came to guide us thither,-but away The happy called him, and he might not stay. 6 We saw him slowly fade--athirst, perchance,
For the fresh waters of that lovely clime ;
And on his gleaming hair no touch of time:
Of one still morn, beneath his chosen tree;
Came low, like moanings of a distant sea; But swelled, and shook the wilderness ere long, As if the spirit of the breeze grew strong. " And then once more they trembled on bis tongue,
And his white eyelids fluttered, and his head
Know'st thou not how we pass to join the dead?
By the calm lake, e'en here, at eventide ;
For on the Cross, he said, his Lord had died!
Now hath he surely reached, o'er mount and wave, That flowery land whose green turf hides no grave " But I am sad I mourn the clear light taken
Back from my people, o'er whose place it shone, The pathway to the better shore forsaken,
And the true words forgotten, save by one, Who hears them faintly sounding from the past, Mingled with death-songs in each fitful blast.” Then spoke the wanderer forth, with kindling eye :
1. Son of the wilderness! despair thou not, Though the bright hour may seem to thee gone by,
And the cloud settled o'er thy nation's lot: Heaven darkly works,-yet where the seed hath been, There shall the fruitage, glowing yet, be seen. “ Hope on, hope ever!-by the sudden springing
ol green leaves which the winter hid so long; And by the bursts of free, triumphant singing,
After cold, silent months, the woods among ; And by the rending of the frozen chains, Which bound the glorious rivers on their plains; " Deem not the words of light that here were spoken,
But as a lovely song, to leave no trace !
And the full day-spring rise upon thy race !
Each fraught with musings for life's after-day,
By many a blue stream on its lonely way; And upon one, 'midsı busy throngs to press Deep ihoughts and sad, yet full of holiness.
THE CHILDE'S DESTINY.
And none did love him,- not his lemans dear,But pomp and pow'r alone are woman's care ; And where these are, light Eros finds a feere."
No mistress of tlie hidden skill,
No wizard gaunt and grim,
To read the stars for him ;
Of vine-encircled France,
Her philosophic glances.
“ I sign thee with a sign ;
No woman's heart be thine!
Is colorless and cold,
What only eyes have told;
Hath blush'd with passion's kiss;
Hath caught its fire from bliss ;
And while the young stars shine,
No woman's heart be thine!
By Beauty's pumbing spell,
Which Beauty loves so well;
And swear by earth and sky;