310

THE DYING BOY.

"Mother, I'm dying now!

There is deep suffocation in my breast,

As if some heavy hand my bosom pressed,-
And on my brow

"I feel the cold sweat stand;

My lips grow dry and tremulous, and my breath Comes feebly up. Oh, tell me! is this death? Mother, your hand!

"Here, lay it on my wrist,

And place the other thus, beneath my head,— And say, sweet mother, say, when I am dead, Shall I be missed?

"Never, beside your knee,

Shall I kneel down again at night to pray,
Nor with the morning wake and sing the lay
You taught to me!

"Oh! at the time of prayer,

When you look round and see a vacant seat, You will not wait then for my coming feet;You'll miss me there!"

"Father, I'm going home!

To the good home you spoke of that blest land

311

THE DYING BOY.

Where it is one bright summer always, and
Death does not come !"

"Brother, the little spot

I used to call my garden, where long hours
We stayed to watch the budding things and flowers,
Forget it not!

"Plant there some box or pine; Something that lives in winter, and will be A verdant offering to my memory,

And call it mine!"

"Sister, my young rose tree

That all the spring has been my pleasant care,
Just putting forth its leaves so green and fair,
I give to thee.

"And when its roses bloom,

I shall be gone away-my short life done;
But will you not bestow a single one
Upon my tomb?"

"Now, mother, sing the tune

You sang last night; I'm weary and must sleep-
Who was it called my name?-Nay, do not weep,
You'll all come soon!"

STANZAS

BY EDWARD SANFORD.

The world is smiling; the glad earth
Smiles on her gaudy children's dress;
The noisy winds laugh out in mirth,

And the breezes titter in playfulness;
The old sea smiles on the close embrace

Of his fondling waves, as they mingling meet; And the young streams laugh in their onward race, And their tiny shout, like a child's, is sweet: Smiles from the earth, and from the sea,

And yet not one sweet smile from thee?

The warm sun smiles on the earth with pride;

And the chaste moon smiles through her vapoury veil.

Like the love-lit glance of a curtained bride,

While, like eyes that are bright at a lover's tale,
From Heaven's high casement downward peeping,
The bright stars wink at the pranks of earth,
Undimmed, like mortal orbs, by weeping,
They chant the hymn of creation's birth.
The skies on high are rife with glee-
And yet not one sweet smile from thee?

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

The heaven-kissed mountains smile on high-
The stream-clasped valleys smile below-
Smiles from the rock, the grove, the sky,

The lake's glassed deep, the river's flow.
There dwells a smile on the face of flowers,

There's joy in the play of the dallying leaves; In this beautiful breathing world of ours

There's nought, save man, that pines and grieves. Ay ! even a smile is forced from me;

And yet not one sweet smile from thee?

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

Pocahontas.

BY GEORGE P. MORRIS.

UPON the barren sand

A single captive stood,

Around him came, with bow and brand,
The red-men of the wood.

Like him of old, his doom he hears,

Rock-bound on ocean's rim :

The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears,
And breathed a prayer for him.

Ee

313

314

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

Above his head in air,

The savage war-club swung;
The frantic girl, in wild despair,
Her arms about him flung.
Then shook the warriors of the shade,
Like leaves on aspen-limb,

Subdued by that heroic maid

Who breathed a prayer for him.

"Unbind him!" gasped the chief,
"It is your king's decree!"
He kissed away her tears of grief,
And set the captive free.

"Tis ever thus, when, in life's storm,
Hope's star to man grows dim,

An angel kneels in woman's form,

And breathes a prayer for him.