THE BEGGAR MAN.

AROUND the fire, one wintry night,
The farmer's rosy children sat;

The faggot lent its blazing light;

And jokes went round, and careless chat.

When, hark! a gentle hand they hear
Low tapping at the bolted door;
And thus, to gain their winning ear,
A feeble voice was heard t' implore:

"Cold blows the blast across the moor; The sleet drives hissing in the wind; Yon toilsome mountain lies before:

A dreary, treeless waste behind.

'My eyes are weak and dim with age;
No road, no path, can I descry;
And these poor rags ill stand the rage
Of such a keen, inclement sky.

"So faint I am-these tottering feet No more my feeble frame can bear; My sinking heart forgets to beat,

And drifting snows my tomb prepare.

THE BEGGAR MAN.

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Open your hospitable door,

And shield me from the biting blast; Cold, cold it blows across the moor,— The weary moor that I have passed!"

With hasty step the farmer ran,

And close beside the fire they place The poor half-frozen beggar man,

With shaking limbs and pallid face.

The little children flocking came,

And warmed his stiff'ning hands in theirs; And busily the good old dame

A comfortable mess prepares.

Their kindness cheer'd his drooping soul;
And slowly down his wrinkled cheek

The big round tears were seen to roll,
And told the thanks he could not speak.

The children, too, began to sigh,

And all their merry chat was o'er; And yet they felt, they knew not why, More glad than they had done before.

MISS AIKIN.

SONG OF EMIGRATION.

THERE was heard a song on the chiming sea,
A mingled breathing of grief and glee:
Man's voice, unbroken by sighs, was there,
Filling with triumph the sunny air;

Of fresh green lands, and of pastures new,

It sang, while the bark through the surges flew.

But ever and anon

A murmur of farewell

Told, by its plaintive tone,

That from woman's lip it fell.

Away, away, o'er the foaming main!"

This was the free and joyous strain,—

"There are clearer skies than ours: afar,

We will shape our course by a brighter star;

There are plains whose verdure no foot hath press'd, And whose wealth is all for the first brave guest."

But, alas! that we should go,"

Sang the farewell voices then,

"From the homesteads, warm and low,

By the brook in the glen!"

SONG OF EMIGRATION.

"We will rear new homes, under trees that glow
As if gems were the fruitage of every bough ;
O'er our white walls we will train the vine,
And sit in its shadow at day's decline,
And watch our herds, as they range at will
Through the green savannas, all bright and still."

"But woe for that sweet shade
Of the flowering orchard-trees,
Where first our children play'd

'Midst the birds and honey-bees!"

"All, all our own shall the forest be,
As to the bound of the roebuck free!
None shall say, Hither, no further pass!'
We will track each step through the wavy grass;
We will chase the elk in his speed and might,
And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night."

"But oh! the grey church-tower,

And the sound of Sabbath-bell,
And the shelter'd garden-bower :

We have bid them all farewell!"

"We will give the names of our fearless race
To each bright river whose course we trace;
We will leave our memory with mounts and floods,
And the path of our daring in boundless woods!
And our works unto many a lake's green shore,
Where the Indians' graves lay, alone, before."

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"But who shall teach the flowers,

Which our children loved, to dwell

In a soil that is not ours?

-Home, home and friends, farewell!"