B

Harp of the beautiful, while the first rays of gold
Fold up the darkness and spread out the morning;
Harp of the beautiful, while, as in days of old,
Spring looks abroad in its early adorning,

Let there be thankfulness filling the vale of calm,—
Lays of delight as in love's early story;
Presents of praise that may go, in the gale of balm,
Up to the Author of gladness and glory!

PETROS AND HERONIQUE.

A TURKISH STORY.

It was an English home, and in the kitchen,
That afternoon the children played in peace.
Three others present were,
"of larger growth.".
One an old Jewess, who, for gossip's sake,
Had been invited in, to talk and rest.
Her large " old clo’” bag at her feet was laid;
And, on the matting, made of fibrous husks,
Beside the bag, sat an Armenian maid.
English the third; and so they spoke by turns,
But often all together.

They could speak!

The Jewess Hebrew spoke; the Armenian Greek,
As well as Turkish ;-English all the three;
Four tongues and but three speakers! Here's the tale
Armenian told.

The

young

Now Petros was a business man,
Who from Armenia came;
Beside the Bosphorus he began
To gather wealth and fame.

And Heronique the gentle, had

To please her husband aim'd,
E'er since her marriage morning glad,
Near Ararat, ark-famed.

Was Petros ever self-deceived?

Such things are not uncommon; Constantinople, he believed,

Had not a lovelier woman!

She knew however that her face
Had nought of beauty known;
A countenance without the grace,
Was equal to her own!

And Petros, he at length awoke
As from a doze and dream;
And thereupon, yet calmly, spoke,—
"My dear, it strange doth seem,

""T is somehow strange, that when we pay A visit to a friend,

Or ramble in a rural way,

Or with the people blend,—

"Whene'er we walk, no matter where,

Nor what gay scene to view, The people, dearest, I declare, Seem not to notice you!

"Their wives, our genteel neighbours guide, Along the public ways,

And, lo! the people open wide
Their wond'ring eyes to gaze!

"Are you not bright as beam of morn,
And sparkling as the gem

Of purest lustre, proudly worn
In beauty's diadem ?

"Then wherefore turn they not on you
The worship of their eyes,

Like flowers of wonder to the blue
Of summer morning skies?

Why are they not attracted, as
The needle by the stone?
Why all unmoved before you pass-
You! Queen on beauty's throne!"

Him answering in a quiet voice,
A gentle voice, and low,-
(Her want of beauty 't was her choice
Her husband should not know :--

Him answering thus, in quiet tone,
Persausively spoke she,-
"What seemeth unto you unknown,
No mystery is to me!

"Are you not like a cedar tall?
And like a giant strong?
Doth not your dread on people fall,
When mingling them among ?

"Is it not known that they who rouse
The lion in his path,

May perish in the fire that flows
Forth from the lion's wrath ?

"How, therefore, dare they gaze on me,
Under your care secure?
Would they to tempt your hand agree?
Could they your arm endure?

"But let me walk their wonted ways
Alone, and wond'ring eyes
Will on my face fix earnest gaze,
Like pictures of surprise!"

"So let it be," said Petros then,

"Your judgment mine allures; I'll watch the faces of the men, While they are watching yours!

W

"I'll walk behind, the journey through!

Put on your best array; What anytime 't is well to do, 'T is best to do to-day!"

Calmly obedient now she tries

Abroad her face to show;

Her robe as blue as summer skies,
Her habit white as snow.

Rings grace her fingers,-round her neck
Hang pearls in costly rows;
While diamonds bright her hair bedeck,
With stars her forehead glows.

Is it the glitter on the breast-
The bracelet on the arm-

Or the clear proof of wealth possess'd,
That worketh like a charm ?

Why stop the travellers on their way?
Why from the café come

The loungers out into the day,
And stare as if struck dumb?

Why doth the barber leave his shop,
And mute in wonder stand?
Why the shoemaker rise and drop
The work he had in hand?