he left us,

Just for a ribbon to stick

in his coat

Found the one gift of which

Fortune bereft us,

Lost all the others she lets us devote.

They, with the gold to give,

doled him out silver,

So much was theirs who so little allowed.

How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags! were they purple, his heart had

been proud.

And

soul cries out in its bitter pain. For the bliss that cannot be

my

For the love that never can come again,

Right merry was I every day,
Fearless to run about and play
With sisters, brother, friends and all-

vain,

To join the ring, to speed the chase,

I never saw my father's face,
Yet on his forehead, when I place
My hand and feel the wrinkles there-
Left less by time than anxious care-
I fear the world has sights of woe,
To knit the brows of manhood so;

I sit upon my father's knee:
He'd love me less if I could see.

I never saw my mother smile:
Her gentle tones my heart beguile;
They fall like distant melody,
They are so mild and sweet to me.
She murmurs not, my mother dear,
Though sometimes I have kissed the tear
From her soft cheek, to tell the joy
One smiling word would give her boy.

Beneath the blast the forests bend,
And thick the branchy ruin lies
And wide the shower of foliage flies;
The lake's black waves in tumult blend,
Revolving o'er and o'er and o'er
And foaming on the rocky shore,
Whose caverns echo to their roar.

The sight sublime enrapts my thought,
And swift along the past it strays
And much of strange event surveys—
What history's faithful tongue has taught,
Or fancy formed, whose plastic skill
The page with fabled change can fill
Of ill to good or good to ill.

But can my soul the scene enjoy
That rends another's breast with pain?
Oh, hapless he who, near the main,
Now sees its billowy rage destroy,
Beholds the foundering bark descend,
Nor knows but what its fate may end
The moments of his dearest friend.

JOHN SCOTT.

While rock and glen and cave and coast
Shook with the war-cry of that host,

The thunder of their feet;
He heard the imperial echoes ring-
He heard, and felt himself a king.

I saw him next alone, nor camp
Nor chief his steps attended;
Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp
With war-cries proudly blended.
He stood alone whom fortune high
So lately seemed to deify;

He who with Heaven contended
Fled like a fugitive and slave-
Behind, the foe; before, the wave.

He stood-fleet, army, treasure, gone— Alone, and in despair,

While wave and wind swept ruthless on For they were monarchs there,

And Xerxes in a single bark,

'Where late his thousand ships were dark,

Must all their fury dare. What a revenge, a trophy, this, For thee, immortal Salamis !

MISS M. A. JEWSBURY.

FLIGHT OF XERXES.

SAW him on the battle-eve,
When like a king he bore him,

Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave,
And prouder chiefs, before him;

The warrior, and the warrior's deeds,
The morrow, and the morrow's meeds-
No daunting thoughts came o'er him:
He looked around him, and his eye
Defiance flashed to earth and sky.

He looked on ocean: its broad breast
Was covered with his fleet;
On earth, and saw from east to west.
His bannered millions meet;