2. 'Tis a voice that sweeps through the evening sky, When the clouds o'er the pale moon are hurrying by; While the fickle gusts, as they come and go,

Wake the forest boughs on the mountain's brow;
It speaks in the shadows that swiftly pass,

In the waves that are roused from the lake's clear glass,
Where the summer shores, in their verdant pride,
Were pictured but late in the stainless tide.

3. And that voice breaks out in the tempest's flight,
When the wild winds sweep in their fearful might;
When the lightnings go forth on the hills to play,
As they pass on their pinions of fire away;
While they fiercely smile through the dusky sky,
As the thunder-peals to their glance reply ;
As the bolts leap out from the somber cloud,
While midnight whirlwinds sing wild and loud!

4. 'Tis a voice which comes in the early morn,
When the matin hymns of the birds are born;
It steals from the fold of the painted cloud,
From the forest draperies, sublime and proud!
Its tones are blent with the running stream,
As it sweeps along, like a changeful dream,
In its light and shade, through the checkered vale,
While the uplands are fanned by the viewless gale.

5. In the twilight hour, when the weary bird

On its nest is sleeping, that voice is heard ;

While mist-robes are drawn o'er the green earth's breast,
And the sun hath gone down from the faded west;
In the hush of that silence when winds are still,

And the light wakes no smile in the babbling rill;
Through the wonderful depths of the purple air,
O'er the landscape trembling-that voice is there!

6. There are whispers of God in the cataract's roar,
In the sea's rude wail on its sounding shore,
In the waves that melt on her azure isles,
Where the sunny south on their verdure smiles, -
In the ocean-ward wind from the orange trees,
In the Sabian' odors that load the breeze;

'Midst the incense that floats from Arabia's strand,
That tone is there, with its whispers bland!

7. And it saith to the cold and the careless heart,
How long wilt thou turn from "the better part”?
I have called from the infinite depths of heaven,-
I have called, but no answer to me was given;

From many a hallowed and glorious spot,

I have called by my Spirit, and ye would not!
Thou art far from the haven, and tempest-tossed,
Hear the cry of thy Pilot, or thou art lost!

BET

Than rank and titles, a thousand fold,
Is a healthy body, a mind at ease,

And simple pleasures that always please;
A heart that can feel for another's woe,
And share his joys with a genial glow,
With sympathies large enough to infold
All men as brothers, is better than gold.

2. Better than gold is a conscience clear,

Though toiling for bread in a humble sphere;
Doubly blessed with content and health,
Untried by the lusts or cares of wealth;
Lowly living and lofty thought

Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot;
For mind and morals, in Nature's plan,
Are the genuine test of a gentleman.

3. Better than gold is the sweet repose

Of the sons of toil when their labors close;
Better than gold is a poor man's sleep,"
And the balm that drops on his slumber deep.
Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed
Where Luxury pillows his aching head;
His simple opiate labor deems

A shorter road to the land of dreams.

4. Better than gold is a thinking mind,
That, in the realm of books, can find
A treasure surpassing Australian ore,
And live with the great and good of yore.
The sage's lore, and the poet's lay,
The glories of empires passed away,
The world's great drama, will thus unfold,
And yield a pleasure better than gold.

5. Better than gold is a peaceful home,

Where all the fireside charities come,
The shrine of love, the heaven of life,
Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife.
However humble the home may be,

Or tried with sorrow by Heaven's decree,
The blessings that never were bought or sold,
And center there, are better than gold.

نا

66

LESSON XXXI.

THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES: AN ALLEGORY.

'A'

HANNAH F. GOULD.

LAS! alas!" said the sorrowing Tree, "my beautiful robe is gone! It has been torn from me. Its faded pieces whirl upon the wind; they rustle beneath the squirrel's foot, as he searches for his nut. They float upon the passing stream, and on the quivering lake. Woe is me! for my fair, green vesture is gone. It was the gift of the Angel of the Leaves! I have lost it, and my glory has vanished; my beauty has disappeared. My summer hours have passed away. My bright and comely garment, alas ! it is rent in a thousand parts.

2. "Who will weave me such another? Piece by piece, it has been stripped from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the loss of one, ere another wandered off on the air. The sound of music cheers me no more. The birds that sang in my bosom were dismayed at my desolation. They have flown away with their songs.

3. "I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe with his smile. The zephyrs breathed softly through its glossy folds; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far on the gentle air; my head was lifted high; my forehead was fair to the heavens. But now, how changed! Sadness is upon me; my head is shorn, my arms are stripped; I can not now throw a shadow on the ground. Beauty has departed; gladness is gone out of my bosom ; the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into the earth.

4. "I am thirsty; I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them.

The winter is coming; I am destitute.

Sorrow is my por-
How shall I ac-

tion. Mourning must wear me away. count to the Angel who clothed me, for the loss of his beautiful gift?”

5. The Angel had been listening. In soothing accents he answered the lamentation. "My beloved Tree," said he, "be comforted. I am with thee still, though every leaf has forsaken thee. The voice of gladness is hushed among thy boughs; but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow is but for a season. Trust in me; keep my promise in thy heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I leave with thee abide and cheer thee through the coming winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew.

6. "The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift through thy naked limbs. But these will be light and passing afflictions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless arms; but it shall soon dissolve into tears. It shall pass into the ground, and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branches it has oppressed, and help me to adorn them; for I shall be here to use it.

retired for safety. The Earth will not rob her

7. "Thy blood has now only frost would chill and destroy it. offspring. She is a careful parent. She knows the wants of all her children, and forgets not to provide for the least of them.

8. "The sap, that has for a while gone down, will make thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then return to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strengthened. Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in my promise, I will fulfill it. Buds shall shoot forth on every side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I will paint it and fit it in every part. It shall be a