THE VIOLET.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.

A violet blossomed on the green,
With lowly stem, and bloom unseen;

It was a sweet, low flower.

A shepherd maiden came that way
With lightsome step and aspect gay
Came near, came near,

Came o'er the green with song.

Ah! thought the violet, might I be
The fairest flower on all the lea,

Ah! but for one brief hour;

And might be plucked by that dear maid,

And gently on her bosom laid,

Ah! but, ah! but,

A few dear moments long.

Alas! the maiden, as she passed,
No eye upon the violet cast;
She crushed the poor, wee flower;
It sunk, and dying, heaved no sigh,
And if I die, at least I die

By her, by her,

Beneath her feet I die.

SWEET LAVENDER.

MRS. STRICKLAND.

Sweet lavender! I love thy flower
Of meek and modest blue,

Which meets the morn and evening hour,
The storm, the sunshine, and the shower,
And changeth not its hue.

In cottage-maid's parterre thou 'rt seen, In simple, touching grace;

And in the garden of the queen,

'Midst costly plants and blossoms sheen, Thou also hast a place.

The rose, with bright and peerless bloom,
Attracted many eyes;

But while her glories and perfume
Expire before brief summer's doom,

Thy fragrance never dies

O, thou art emblem of the friend,
Who, whatso'er our lot,

The balm of faithful love will lend;
And, true and constant to the end,
May die, but alters not.

THE IRIS.

The IRIS or flower-de-luce is supposed to be named after Juno's favorite attendant and messenger. She is represented by the ancients, with wings, and encircled by a rainbow, and was sent by Junc to the bedside of dying females, as the messenger of peace and promise to bear away the departing spirit. Ovid thus speaks of Juno's favored one.

The various Iris, Juno sends with haste.

Louis the Seventh, having distinguished himself in the second crusade, selected, according to the custom of the times, a particular blazon, and, causing the Iris to be emblazoned on the arms of France, it was afterwards called the flower of Louis; Louis,' by corruption, became Luce.' The bow of promise is not more beautifully tinged than the Jower which bears its name.

'Ever varying hue

Of every beautiful thing on earth,

the tints

Of heaven's own Iris,

all are in the west

On this delicious eve.'

TWAMLEY.

But, 'midst them all,

Crowned as the rainbow festival,

A sapphire-colored blossom shone
The loveliest then; no other one
Her jewels wore

So gracefully. Her robe all o'er

Was radiant; yes, deep blue, like twilight sky,
And softly shaded, as when clouds do lie

Upon the deep expanse. 'Twas strange none knew
A name for this fair form, so bright and blue;

But sister-flowerets fancifully said,

As they to note her beauty had been led
By its enhancement in the rainbow shower,
They e'en would call her Iris from that hour.

ANON.

How oft have I viewed thee all glorious and bright,
In the pride of thy birthplace, thou vision of light;
Like an angel of gladness, in mercy designed
As a token and herald of love to mankind!

There, too, when the floods of the desert resound, Thou reignest unmoved by the tumult around; And the eye may repose on thy soft-smiling beams, And the fancy may hail thee the nymph of the streams.

THE DESOLATE ONE.

CAMPBELL.

As wandering, I found on my ruinous walk,

By the dial-stone aged and green,

One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk,
To mark where a garden had been;

Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race,
All wild in the silence of nature, it drew

⚫ From each wandering sunbeam a lovely embrace, For the nightweed and thorn overshadowed the

place

Where the flower of my forefathers grew.

Sweet bud of the wilderness! emblem of all

That survives in this desolate heart;

The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall,

But patience shall never depart;

Tough the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright,

In the days of delusion by fancy combined With the vanishing phantoms of woe and delight, Abandon my soul like a dream of the night,

And leave but a desert behind.