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And how she danced with pleasure to see my civic
crown; And took my sword, and hung it up, and brought me
forth my gown! Now, all those things are over-yes, all thy pretty
ways, Thy needlework, thy prattle, thy snatches of old
lays; And none will grieve when I go forth, or smile when
I return, Or watch beside the old man's bed, or weep upon his urn. The house that was the happiest within the Roman
walls, The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's
marble halls, Now, for the brightness of thy smile, must have
eternal gloom; And, for the music of thy voice, the silence of the
tomb. The time is come. See he how he points his eager
hand this way! See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon
the prey! With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, be
trayed, bereft, Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge left. He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still
Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion
of the slave;
Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and
blowFoul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt
never know. Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me
one more kiss ; And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way
but this." With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in
the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob
THE GRATEFUL SLAVE.
The famous Oriental philosopher Lockman, while slave, being presented by his master with a bitter melon, immediately ate it all. “How was it possible," said his master, “ for you to eat so nauseous a fruit ?” Lockman replied, “I have received so many favours from you, that it is no wonder I should once in my life eat a bitter melon from your hand." This generous answer of the slave struck the master to such a degree that he immediately gave him his liberty. With such sentiments should man receive his portion of sufferings at the hand of God.
A LITTLE way alone into the wood
The father gently moved toward the sound, Treading with quiet feet upon the grassy ground.
Anon advancing thus, the trees between
So to have heard so fair a creature sing
For these had been her teachers, these alone;
Rejoicing in her consciousness of power,
In joy had she begun the ambitious song
That with the music of its dying strain
When now the father issued from the wood
Wherefore he came; his garb and beard she knew: All that her mother heard, had then indeed been true.
Nor was the Father filled with less surprise :
For in her beauty Mooma such might seem,
No art of barbarous ornament had scarred
Which seemed to be for beasts a fitting lair,
Across her shoulders was a hammock flung,
IDEAL OF A WIFE.
The world must go on its own way: for all we can say against it, radiant beauty, though it beams over the organization of a doll, will have its hour of empire --the most torpid heiress will easily get herself married; but the wife whose sweet nature can kindle worthy