THE UNFORGOTTEN ONE.

YONDER On that wall displayed,
Children three behold pourtrayed,
The resemblances of life,

With the truth of nature rife:
See one gentle girl is there,
And of boys a jocund pair;

And by God's good grace, the three
Round about our hearts we see,

Filling still our home with glee.

But that loved one, who has left Us of so much joy bereft, Whom our yearning hearts require, Whom our aching eyes desire, We, alas! have not of him Even this poor memorial dim. Oh unhappy chance! the three Whom around us still we see, That do with their presence bright Ever make us pure delight, Whom at any hour we mayEvery hour of every dayTo our bosoms fold and press, Visions of delight that bless Daily our glad eyes, and still With their living voices fill

Full of joyfulness our bowers,
Triad sweet, that still are ours;
We may on their portraits feed,
In this richer than we need,
Hardly needing these, the while
They themselves upon us smile.

But that loved one, loved and lost, Who has left our life's bleak cost, After whom our eyes we strain, Whom we listen for in vain,

For he comes, he comes not back, Well-a-day! of him we lack, Rudest effort that should trace The dear features of his face; Which if it had truly caught, Though by artless limner wrought, It had still been in our eyes Dearer relic, costlier prize,

Than great work of master's hand,
By far-famed artist planned,

Looking calmly from the wall
Of some old ancestral hall.

And already, when I strive
That lost image to revive,
And his very self to paint
On my mind's eye, dim and faint

THE UNFORGOTTEN ONE.

Come those features, indistinct,
Or with that last suffering linked;
Or if they distinct and clear
For a moment may appear,
Soon they fade anew, and seem
Like the picture of a dream,
Or cloud vision, which the breath
Of the light wind scattereth.

Years will roll, and dim and dimmer,
Through their mists, will faintly glimmer
That loved image, which e'en now
Comes not freely to my vow,
Which already memory's wand
Is not potent to command

At its bidding.-Let it be,

Let me lose all trace of thee,-
Of the earthly casket, which

Once an heavenly gem made rich--
So that fresh in me I find
The dear features of thy mind,
So that these continue still,
And the haunts of memory fill-
All the largeness of thy heart,
Ever planning to impart
To thy brothers, to the poor,
Far beyond thy little store,
And thy tears which any woe,

Heard or seen, would cause to flow

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If I may remember still

How our inborn stain of ill

Did in thee break seldom forth,
Seldom came unto the birth;
(So the holy waters laved,

With their grace so truly saved ;)
While with a delighted ear
Of thy Lord and Saviour dear
Thou didst ever love to hear;
If these memories with me stay,
If these do not fade away,

I with unrepining heart

Will those others see depart.

SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE.

ANON.

A RAVINE NEAR THE HEAD-WATERS OF THE RAMAPO.

THE cascade flashes through the lit ravine;
And where the settler's axe has thinned the

trees,

The sun looks through their bright autumnal

screen

Of coloured leaves. Fantastic visages

Of rocks illumined by his smile he sees;

COMPLAINT OF FRANCE.

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Their shattered fronts the forest stems between, And all with creeping vegetation green.

Flies 'twixt the mossy trunks the dripping breeze,

On its moist wings outbearing to our ears
A pleasant rustle of decaying leaves,—
And the hoarse gurgle of descending waters:
Commingling sounds, which charmed Fancy
hears,

And pure Imagination glad receives;

Of Memory and Delight the twin-born daughters.

D. HADDINGTON.

COMPLAINT OF FRANCE.

FRANCE!-once thy name was never spoken
In every land but as the peer,

Of honour and of fame the token,
To courtesy and prowess dear.

And strangers loved to seek thy shore--
But now what grief my bosom wrings,
To see thy sorrows more and more,

And mark thy ceaseless sufferings,
To know thy wrongs and thy mischance,
Beloved, bold, Christian realm of France!