I dared not stray beyond my nurse's side
In the dim twilight; yet I now have come
Alone, unguarded, this far dreary mile,
By darkness unappall'd; — a simple worm
Would often fright my heart, and bid it flutter,
But now I've heard the wild wolf's hungry howl
With soul undaunted till to-night, I've shrunk
and soldiers! scarcely dared I look
Upon their glittering arms; - but here I come

From men;

And sue to you, men, warriors;

- drive me not

Away. He whom I seek is yet a child,

A prattling boy, and must he, must he die?

O, if you love your children, let me pass.

You will not? Then my strength and hope are gone,

And I shall perish, ere I reach my friends."

And then she press'd her brow, as if those hands, So soft and small, could still its throbbing pulse. The sentinels looked calmly on, like men Whose blades had toyed with sorrow, and made sport Of woe. One step the maiden backward took, Lingering in thought, then hope like a soft flush Of struggling twilight kindled in her eyes. She knelt before them and re-urged her plea. 66 Perchance you have a sister, sir, or you,

A poor young thing like me; if she were here
Kneeling like me before my countrymen,

They would not spurn her thus !"

The soften'd voice of one replied, nor was
She check'd, nor waited she to hear repulse,
But darted through the avenue, attained
The hall, and springing up the well known stairs,
With such a flight as the young eagle takes
То gain its nest, she reached the quiet couch,
Where in bright dreams th' unconscious sleeper lay.
Slight covering o'er the rescued boy she threw,
And caught him in her arms. He knew that cheek,
Kiss'd it half-waking, then around her neck
His hands entwined, and dropp'd to sleep again.

She bore him onward, dreading now for him
The shot that whizz'd along, and tore the earth
In fragments by her side. She reached the guards,
Who silent oped the gate,
- then hurried on,
But as she pass'd them, from her heart burst forth -
"God bless you, gentlemen!" then urged her way;
Those arms, whose heaviest load and task had been
To poise her doll, and wield her childhood's toys,
Bearing the boy along the dangerous road.

Voices at length she hears her friends are near,

They meet, and yielding up her precious charge, She sinks upon her father's breast, in doubt 'Twixt smiles and tears.

1837.

THE MONARCH AT PRAYER.

66 George the Third knelt by the bedside of his dying daughter, the Princess Amelia, and prayed."

PROUD Windsor's towers lay bathed in light,

And Nature look'd and smil'd

On that rich work of human art,
As on her own fair child.

The birds sent up their piping notes,
Or cut the yielding sky;

The garden'd plains and wooded hills
Look'd gladsome to the eye.

But sorrow deep and darkly fell
Beneath those lordly walls,

And wailings hush'd, but sorrowful,
Were whisper'd through the halls.

Ah, what avails it, that

yon

couch

And canopy are hung,

With trappings of more brilliant hue,
Than ancient poets sung?

She cares not for exotic flowers,
Nor fruits that clustering swell,
Nor all the pomp and gorgeousness
That luxury scarce may tell.

Forbear to tempt her faded lip,

With costly viands now;

Forbear to place the scented wreath,

Above that marble brow.

Ye need not tread with feathery step,
Her velvet cover'd floor;
Nor guard with silent sentinels,
The nicely balanc'd door :

She heeds not now the sounds of earth,
More than the autumn flower

Heeds the wild winds, that pass, and strew
Its leaves within her bower.