FLOWERS IN CHILDHOOD AND AGE.-
Mrs. Sigourney.
THE flowers were beautiful to me,
When childhood lured the way
Along the green and sunny slope,
Or through the groves to stray.
They were to me as playmates dear,
And when upon my knee
I whispered to them in their beds,
Methought they answered me.
I bent to kiss them, where they grew,
And smiling bore away
On lip and cheek the diamond dew,
That glittering decked their spray.
The bud, on which no eye hath glanced,
Save His who formed its pride,
Seemed as a sister to my heart,
For it had none beside.
Then countless gay and fairy forms
Gleamed by, on pinions rare,
And many a castle's turret bright
Was pictured on the air;
For Fancy held me so in thrall
And peopled every scene,
That flowers might only fill the space
A thousand joys between.
But as life's river nears its goal,
And glittering bubbles break,
The love of flowers is like his grasp
Whom stronger props forsake,
Who, drifting towards some wintry clime,
Hangs o'er the vessel's side
To snatch one faded wreath of hope
From out the whelming tide.
Like his, who on the isthmus stands
Whose ever-crumbling verge
Divides the weary race of time
From death's advancing surge,
And sees, to cheer its dreary strand,
Pale Memory's leaflets start,
And binds them, as a blessed balm,
To heal his lonely heart.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.—Byron.
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:
The fingers of a man ;—
A solitary hand
Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless waxed his look,
And tremulous his voice.
"Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth."
Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore;
But now they were not sage,
They saw-but knew no more.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night,—
The morrow proved it true.
"Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom passed away,
He, in the balance weighed,
Is light and worthless clay.
The shroud, his robe of state,
His canopy the stone :
The Mede is at his gate!
The Persian on his throne !"
THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON-LOW. — A MIDSUMMER LEGEND.-Mary Howitt.
"AND where have you been, my Mary,
And where have you been from me?"
"I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low
The Midsummer night to see !"
"And what did you see, my Mary,
All up on the Caldon-Low?"
"I saw the blithe sunshine come down, And I saw the merry winds blow."
"And what did you hear, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Hill?"
"I heard the drops of the water made, And the green corn ears to fill."
"Oh, tell me all, my Mary
All, all that ever you know;
For you must have seen the fairies,
Last night on the Caldon-Low."
"Then take me on your knee, mother,
And listen, mother of mine :
A hundred fairies danced last night,
And the harpers they were nine.
"And merry was the glee of the harp-strings, And their dancing feet so small;
But, oh, the sound of their talking
Was merrier far than all !"
"And what were the words, my Mary, That you did hear them say?"
"I'll tell you all, my mother—
But let me have my way!
"And some they played with the water,
And rolled it down the hill;
'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn
The poor old miller's mill;
"For there has been no water
Ever since the first of May;
And a busy man shall the miller be
By the dawning of the day!
"Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,
When he sees the mill-dam rise!
The jolly old miller, how he will laugh,
Till the tears fill both his eyes!'
"And some they seized the little winds,
That sounded over the hill,
And each put a horn into his mouth,
And blew so sharp and shrill :—
66 6 And there,' said they, 'the merry winds go,
Away from every horn;
And those shall clear the mildew dank
From the blind old widow's corn:
Oh, the poor, blind old widow
Though she has been blind so long,
She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,
And the corn stands stiff and strong!'
"And some they brought the brown lintseed,
And flung it down from the Low—
'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,
In the weaver's croft shall grow!
"Oh, the poor, lame weaver,
How he will laugh outright,
When he sees his dwindling flax-field
All full of flowers by night!'
"And then upspoke a brownie,
With a long beard on his chin'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, 'And I want some more to spin.
"I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,
And I want to spin another-
A little sheet for Mary's bed.
And an apron for her mother!'
|