Around my ivied porch shall spring

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing In russet gown and apron blue.

The village church, among the trees,

Where first our marriage vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven.

SAMUEL ROGERS.

THE BELLS OF SHANDON.

Sabbata pango;

Funera plango;

Solemnia clango.

INSCRIPTION ON AN OLD BELL.

WITH deep affection

And recollection

I often think of

Those Shandon bells,

Whose sounds so wild would,

In the days of childhood,

Fling round my cradle

Their magic spells.

On this I ponder
Where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder,
Sweet Cork, of thee-

With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

I've heard bells chiming
Full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in
Cathedral shrine,
While at a glibe rate

Brass tongues would vibrate;

But all their music

Spoke naught like thine.

For memory, dwelling
On each proud swelling
Of the belfry knelling

Its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on

The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

I've heard bells tolling
Old Adrian's Mole in,
Their thunder rolling

From the Vatican-
And cymbals glorious
Swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets

Of Notre Dame;

But thy sounds were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter

Flings o'er the Tiber,

Pealing solemnly.

Oh! the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

There's a bell in Moscow;

While on tower and kiosk, oh,

In Saint Sophia

The Turkman gets,

And loud in air

Calls men to prayer

From the tapering summit

Of tall minarets.

Such empty phantom
I freely grant them;
But there's an anthem
More dear to me-

'Tis the bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on

The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

FRANCIS MAHONY

("FATHER PROUT").

DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENDER AND TRUE.

COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, In the old likeness that I knew,

I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,

I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do ;Sweet as your smile on me shone ever, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

O to call back the days that are not!

My eyes were blinded, your words were few; Do you know the truth now up in heaven, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

I never was worthy of you, Douglas ;
Not half worthy the like of you ;

Now all men beside seem to me like shadowsI love you, Douglas, tender and true.

Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;
As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

DINAH MULOCH CRAIK.

THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS.

SOMEWHAT back from the village street
Stands the old-fashion'd country-seat.
Across its antique portico

Tall poplar trees their shadows throw:
And from its station in the hall

An ancient timepiece says to all,—

"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"