For the bright queen of St. Lewis, the star of court and hall! [tempest's call. But the deep strength of the gentle heart wakes to the Her lord was in the Paynim's hold, his soul with grief oppressed;

[breast! Yet calmly lay she, desolate, with her young babe on her There were voices in the city, voices of wrath and fear— "The walls grow weak, the strife is vain-we will not perish here! [bastion high!

Yield! yield! and let the Crescent gleam o'er tower and Our distant homes are beautiful-we stay not here to die." They bore those fearful tidings to the sad queen where she lay

They told a tale of wavering hearts, of treason and dismay : The blood rushed through her pearly cheek, the sparkle to her eye[bands of Italy!" "Now call me hither those recreant knights from the Then through the vaulted chamber stern iron footsteps rang; And heavily the sounding floor gave back the sabre's clang. They stood around her-steel-clad men, moulded for storm and fight; [bright.

But they quailed before the loftier soul in that pale aspect Yes! as before the falcon shrinks the bird of meaner wing, So shrank they from the imperial glance of her—that fragile thing! [din of arms around— And her flute-like voice rose clear and high, through the Sweet, and yet stirring to the soul, as a silver clarion's

sound.

"The honour of the Lily is in your hands to keep, And the banner of the Cross, for him who died on Calvary's steep! [holy bell:And the city which, for Christian prayer, hath heard the And is it these your hearts would yield to the godless infidel?

"Then bring me here a breast-plate, and a helm, before ye fly,

And I will gird my woman's form, and on the ramparts die! And the boy-whom I have borne for woe, but never for [race!

disgrace,—

Shall go within mine arms to death-meet for his royal

"Look on him as he slumbers in the shadow of the lance! Then go, and, with the Cross, forsake the princely babe of France!

But tell your homes you left one heart to perish undefiled; A woman, and a queen, to guard her honour and her child!" Before her words they thrilled, like hares when winds are in the wood; [mood. And a deepening murmur told of men raised to a loftier And her babe awoke to flashing swords, unsheathed in many a hand, [band! As they gathered round the helpless one, again a noble "We are thy warriors, Lady! true to the Cross and thee; The spirit of thy kindling words on every sword shall be. Rest, with the fair child on thy breast; rest-we will guard thee well.

St. Denis for the Lily-flower and the Christian citadel !" Mrs. Hemans.

The Mariner's Hymn.

LAUNCH thy bark, Mariner! Christian, God speed thee!
Let loose the rudder-bands !—good angels lead thee!
Set thy sails warily; tempests will come;

Steer thy course steadily! Christian, steer home!
Look to the weather-bow, breakers are round thee!
Let fall the plummet now-shallows may ground thee.
Reef-in the fore-sail there! hold the helm fast!
So-let the vessel ware! there swept the blast.
What of the night, watchman? What of the night?
"Cloudy-all quiet-no land yet-all's right."
Be wakeful, be vigilant !-danger may be

At an hour when all seemeth securest to thee.

How gains the leak so fast? Clean out the hold—
Hoist up thy merchandise-heave out thy gold!
There-let the ingots go !-now the ship rights;
Hurrah! the harbour's near-lo, the red lights!
Slacken not sail yet at inlet or island;

Straight for the beacon steer-straight for the high land;
Crowd all thy canvas on, cut through the foam—
Christian cast anchor now-HEAVEN IS THY HOME!
Mrs. Southey.

Nola Kozmo.

THERE stood a young form in the mild
Dim twilight of the morning hour,
When dawn just opes her lips of light
To pour on earth its honeyed shower.
Day's beautiful harbinger as yet

Was lingering in the eastern sky,
Looking its last ere it should set,

Like some love-fraught but earth-dim eye:

The trees waved stilly in the wind,

And wild birds sang in their green homes enshrined.

Calmly that youthful form stood there,

A mantle o'er his shoulders flung,
His dark plumes, stirred by the soft air,
O'er his bent forehead drooping hung.
Calmly he stood, alone, alone,

Wrapped in his thoughts of grief or crime;
His long dark tresses, gently blown,

Waved round his face their lustrous prime. In front, with muskets glancing keen,

Wild men stood waiting in the twilight sheen.

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Prisoner, commend thy soul to heaven!"

A stern voice cried from out the band,
And, at the word, like lightning riven,
The muskets glanced in each broad hand.
An upward trembling of his gaze,

A motion of those small round lips,
A flutter of those dark eyes' rays,
Like stars beneath a cloud's eclipse,
That pale sad brow one moment bared,

The prisoner bowed his head and stood prepared.

There was a pause-a deathly pause

The still soft wind crept murmuring past,
Each heart a fuller breathing draws,
The mantle's folds aside are cast,
And, as the bosom gleams to view,
Thunders the red throat of the gun.
Ah! too well aimed the missile flew,
He sank like flowers at set of sun.

They raised him-life's streams gushing warm,
And saw--O faith and love! a woman's form.

"I thank thee, heaven," her faint lips spake,
The life blood o'er them bubbling clear—
"He, he is safe !--for him will wake

No father's sigh, no mother's tear."
That soft, large eye grew fixed and dull,
That soft, white forehead cold and dim,
Those locks, so rich and beautiful,

Dabbled in gore, around her swim.
A long, deep sigh-back sank her head;
The faithful and the beautiful was dead.

"Away!" a wild voice cried behind,

And backward dashed the crowd retiredA form reeled on with hurry blind,

His eyes like faggots newly fired. "Nola," he cried, "how, how is this?

Ah, me earth drinks her heart's dear rain!" Down dropped he that cold clay to kiss, And question those white lips in vain. "Dumb!-cold!-no fire in those orbs bePale-pale, my love! and thus-oh wretch, for me!"

Then yelled he to the wild train round,
"What! stand ye idly loitering still?
Behold your true prey, free, unbound.
Stands mocking at your murd'rous will-
You know me not? On battle day

This arm you knew, and feared it well-
Cowards!"-a bullet winged its way-
He reeled and by the maiden fell :
They laid them both in one red grave,
And summer flowers o'er their slumbers wave.

John Littlejohn.

JOHN LITTLEJOHN was staunch and strong,
Upright and downright, scorning wrong;
He gave good weight, and paid his way,
He thought for himself, and he said his say;

Baine.

Whenever a rascal strove to pass,

Instead of silver, a coin of brass,

He took his hammer, and said with a frown, "The coin is spurious, nail it down."

John Littlejohn was firm and true,

You could not cheat him in "two and two;"
When foolish arguers, might and main,
Darkened and twisted the clear and plain,
He saw through the mazes of their speech,
The simple truth beyond their reach;
And crushing their logic, said, with a frown,
"Your coin is spurious, nail it down."

John Littlejohn maintained the right,

Through storm and shine, in the world's despite;
When fools or quacks desired his vote,
Dosed him with arguments learned by rote,
Or by coaxing, threats, or promise tried
To gain his support to the wrongful side,

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Nay, nay," said John, with an angry frown,

"Your coin is spurious, nail it down.”

When told that kings had a right divine,
And that the people were herds of swine,
That nobles alone were fit to rule,

That the poor were unimproved by school,
That ceaseless toil was the proper fate
Of all but the wealthy and the great,
John shook his head, and said, with a frown,
"The coin is spurious, nail it down."

When told that events might justify
A false and crooked policy;

That a decent hope of future good
Might excuse departure from rectitude;

That a lie, if white, was of small offence,

To be forgiven by men of sense,

"Nay, nay," said John, with a sigh and frown,

"The coin is spurious, nail it down."

Charles Mackay.