I looked out on the pleasant earth And felt the beauty and the worth I had these pleasures all the while My heart refused to rest; But now to me they wear his smile, And therefore they are blest. The voice is silent still that made Yet something in the shadowy glade I know that still beneath the tree With nature, and with God! GERTRUDE OF WYOMING. CAMPBELL, [EXTRACT.] THE rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's' cheek--What though these shades had seen her birth, her sire A Briton's independence taught to seek Far western worlds; and there his household fire And many a halcyon day he lived to see When fate had reft his mutual heart-but she Was gone-and Gertrude climb'd a widow'd father's knee. A loved bequest,-and I may half impart From hours when she would round his garden play, To time when as the ripening years went by, Her lovely mind could culture well repay, And more engaging grew, from pleasing day to day. I may not paint those thousand infant charms; For God to bless her sire, and all mankind; Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue summer shone. STANZA S. H. MALDON. THERE is a home-felt stillness in the hour The volume or the work aside is laid, And the pleased mother views, with glistening eye, The little games by happy childhood played, Her fair-haired girls all breathless running by, With cries of mimic fear and laugh of ecstasy. When the far clock hath toll'd the hour of rest The hymn so sweetly lisp'd, have all enchantment there. And then the goodnight kiss; and they repose The wearied infants to each other press, The sage might envy thee, the saint might bless: The sunk and haggard eyes that wake, and wake to weep! Trinity College, Cambridge. LITTLE CHILDREN BROUGHT TO JESUS. GRAHAME. Suffer that little children come to me ; The mothers onward press; but finding vain Shrink, trembling, till their wandering eyes discern And pity; eager then they stretch their arms, And, cowering, lay their heads upon his breast. |