THE NEW "BARD'S LEGACY".

AIR: The Bard's Legacy.

WHEN in death I shall cálm recline,

Oh! beár my watch to my mistress dear;
Tell her I róse when it pointed Nine,
On évery morning all round the year.
Bíd her not shéd one tear of sorrow
To súlly a gém so precious and bright,
But a pocket of crimson velvet borrow,
And hang it beside her bed every night.

When the light of mine eyes is o'er,
Take my spécs to Optician's Hall,
And let the porter that answers the door,
Show them to all that happen to call.

Then if some bárd, who roams forsaken,

Should bég a peep through them in pássing along,

Oh! lét one thought of their master awaken
Your warmest smile for the child of song.

Keep this inkbottle, now o'erflowing,
To write your létters when I'm laid low;
Néver, Oh! néver one drop bestowing
On any who hów to write don't know.
But if some pále, wan-wasted scholar
Shall dip his goosequill at its brim,
Then, thén my spirit around shall hover,
And hállow each jet black drop for him.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 9, 1856.

WISE TOO LATE.

SHE blúshed, and yet I did not count it Y, Nor É though on the ground she bent her eye, Nor S although she sighed when she said Nó — Foól! that knew nót that maids still spéll YES só. CARLSRUHE, Jan. 26, 1856.

LIBERTY.

"THOU knów'st not what liberty is," to me saíd A red démocrat ónce, with a sháke of his head; "I'm not sure that I do," replied í, "but let's seé: It 's that thou mayst whatéver thou lik'st do to mé, Whilst í am prevénted by imprisonment and fine From doing to theé what to dó I 'd incline."

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 14, 1856.

JOHN 's not to my mind, I abóminate his lying
But William 's far worse with his nóthing but trúth.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 22, 1856.

66

WELL, the world makes bút snail's prógress!"
Thús to Thomas ónce said William,

Ás from church home, ón a Sunday,
Árm in arm they walked together.

"Hów is 't possible the world should
Máke fast prógress," answered Thomas,
"While we reár our children úp in
Thé same érrors wé were reared in,
While we teach our children, William,
Nót the truths our lives have taught us,
But the liés we were brought up in?"

"Áh, poor children!" answered William,
"Let them spórt their hoúr of sunshine;
Tíme enough they'll learn the black truth,
Tíme enough be wise and wretched."

"Véry well; but while succéssive
Génerátions spend their whole lives
Still unleárning the same fálsehoods,
Hów 's the world to make fast prógress?"

CARLSRUHE, March 2, 1856.

A FORGET-ME-NOT grew by the side of the broók
Where Máry went down with her pail to fetch water;
She laid down her pail, plucked the flower, heaved a sigh,
And till she came back for 't that day had no water.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 7, 1856

Der gelehrte Arbeiter.

Nimmer labt ihn des Baumes Frucht, den er mühsam erziehet:
Nur der Geschmack geniesst, was die Gelehrsamkeit pflanzt.

SCHILLER.

WRONG! as often, my Schiller; the gardener enjoys more

In digging and féncing and plánting and watering,
Than the finest taste éver enjoyed in the fruit.

We all look with pleasure at Téll on thy cánvas,
But thine was the rápture of pútting him thére.

LITTLE children, take it kindly
When your parents flóg and chide ye
Fór each lié they catch you télling
Little children must not téll lies.

"Bút big people often téll lies;
Why mayn't we do like big people?”
Júst because ye are little children,
Ánd don't know how to behave yet;

Don't know hów yet tó discriminate
Which are right and which are wrong lies,
Whích lie's dangerous, which lie safe is,
Which from Gód comes, which from Sátan.

"Bút our parents álways say to us: --'Yé must néver néver téll lies.""

Tó be súre; no párents like to

Háve lies told them by their children.

Évery lié ye téll your parents,

Tó your parents is an injury;

Hów can they their children rúle, if
By their children hoáxed and cheated?