*

Love gives its energy, love

gave

it birth.

*

Where, on thy dewy wing,'
Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven,* thy love is on earth.

O'er fell* and fountain sheen,*
O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day;
Over the cloudlet * dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,

Musical cherub,* soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming * comes,
Low in the heather blooms

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be !
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place

Oh to abide in the desert with thee!

VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.*—Byron.

Satraps, the chief governors and nobles.

In Judah, &c., these vessels were set apart for the service of the Temple, and were, therefore, held most Jacred.

*

THE King was on his throne,
The Satraps thronged the hall;
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.
A thousand cups of gold,

In Judah* deemed divine-
Jehovah's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine.

In that same hour and hall,

The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,

And wrote as if on sand:

15

And traced them like a wand.

The monarch saw, and shook,

And bade no more rejoice;

Bloodless, &c., he be came pale with fear.

All bloodless* waxed his look,
And tremulous his voice.

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* Belshazzar was the last of the Babylonian kings. This poem is founded on the Account given of the overthrow of Babylon in the Book of Daniel.

* Hohenlinden, or Linden Heights, is a small village in Bavaria. about six leagues from Munich. It is situated between the Iser and the Inn, tributaries of the Danube. The Austrians and Bavarians were defeated here by the French on the 3d December 1800.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade;
And furious every charger neighed,

To join the dreadful revelry.*

Then shook the hills* with thunder riven ;*
Then rushed the steed to battle driven;
And, louder than the bolts of heaven,

Far flashed the red artillery.

But redder yet those fires shall glow
On Linden's hills of stained snow;
And bloodier yet shall be the flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

"Tis morn-but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-cloud rolling dun,
Where furious Frank* and fiery Hun

Shout 'mid their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens: On, ye brave!
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munich,* all thy banners wave,

And charge with all thy chivalry!

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15

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30

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15 You can hear him wield * his heavy sledge,*
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton * ringing the village bell
When the evening sun is low.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!

He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;

35 And with his hard, rough hand, he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught !

45 Thus at the flaming forge of Life
Our fortunes must be wrought!

Thus on its sounding anvil * shaped
Each burning deed and thought!

BARBARA FRITCHIE.-J. G. Whittier.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER (1808- ) was born at Havershill, Massachusetts, where his ancestors had long been settled. Many of his poems were devoted to the cause of Abolition. He contributes to all the leading American Magazines of the present day.

UP from the meadows, rich with corn,
Clear from the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick * stand,
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

*

*

Clustered, crowded together. Frederick, or Fredericksburg, in Virginia, U.S.

Green-walled, &c., surrounded, as by a natural wall, by the hills of the Blue Ridge, a branch of the Alleghany Mountains.

bars or stripes alternately red and white, and thirteen white stars on a blue ground in the upper corner next the staff, Hence the allusion to stars, and bars or stripes.

Hauled, pulled, dragged with lence.

vio

Loyal, to be faithful and obedient to the laws of one's country. Stonewall Jackson, an able general, famous for his bravery. He received the nickname of "Stonewall' from the firmness with which his men resisted every attack. He was accidentally killed by a bullet fired by one of his own soldiers at the battle of Chancellorsville, May 2, 1863. Slouched, turned down.

Shiver, shatter, to break into small pieces by sudden violence.

Silken scarf, the banner, which was made of silk.

Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep;
Fair as a garden of the Lord

To the eyes of the famished * rebel * horde.*

On that pleasant morn of the early fall,*

When Lee* marched over the mountain wall, 10
Over the mountains winding down,

Horse and foot, into Frederick town,

*

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their silver bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Fritchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten,
Bravest of all in Frederick town,

15

She took up the flag the men hauled* down; 20

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal * yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson* riding ahead;

Under his slouched* hat, left and right,
He glanced, the old flag met his sight.
"Halt!"-the dust-brown ranks stood fast;
"Fire!"-out blazed the rifle blast.

It shivered* the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash,
Quick, as it fell from the broken staff,
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;*

She leaned far out on the window sill
And shook it forth with a royal will.
Shoot, if you must, this old
grey head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.

66

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The noble nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word.

"Who touches a hair of yon grey head,
Dies like a dog. March on !" he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet;

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