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She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace ;
And bending back her head, looked up,

And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly “twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,

The swelling of her heart.
I calmed her fears; and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride ;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous bride!

COLERIDGE.

79. WE ARE ALL GOD'S CHILDREN.

CHILDREN We are all, Of one Great Father, in whatever clime His providence hath cast the seed of life. The all-seeing Father,--He in whom we live and move, He, the impartial Judge of all, -regards Nations and hues, and dialects alike. According to their works shall they be judged, When even-handed justice in the scale Their good and evil weighs.

SOUTHEY.

80. GOODNESS THE ONLY TRUE NOBILITY.

Howe'er it be, it seems to me,

'Tis only noble to be good.
True hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith, than Norman blood.

TENNYSON.

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“O, COME you from the Indies, and, soldier, can you tell Aught of the gallant 90th, and who are safe and well ? 0, soldier, say my son is safe ; for nothing else I care,– And you shall have a mother's thanks—shall have a widow's

prayer.”

“O, I've come from the Indies—I've just come from the war;
And well I know the 90th, and gallant lads they are ;
From colonel down to rank and file, I know my comrades well,
And news I've brought for you, mother, your Robert bade

me tell."

66 And do you know my Robert now? O, tell me, tell me true, 0, soldier, tell me word for word all that be said to you, His very words—my own boy's words—0 tell me every one! You little know how dear to his old mother is my son."

“Through Havelock's fights and marches the 90th were there;
In all the gallant 90th did, your Robert did his share;
Twice he went into Lucknow, untouched by steel or ball,
And you may bless your God, old dame, that brought him

safe through all.”

“O, thanks unto the living God that heard his mother's

prayer, The widow's cry that rose on high her only son to spare ; O blessed be God, that turned from him the sword and shot

away; And what to his old mother did my darling bid you say?"

"Mother, he saved his colonel's life, and bravely it was done; In the Despatch they told it all, and named and praised

your son ; A medal and a pension's his ; good luck to him I say, . And he has not a comracle but will wish him well to-day."

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“Now, soldier, blessings on your tongue; 0, husband, that

you knew How well our boy pays me this day for all that I've gone

through, All I have done and borne for him the long years since you're

dead! But, soldier, tell me how he looked, and all my Robert said.” “He's bronzed, and tanned, and bearded, and you'd hardly

kuow him, dame, We've made your boy into a man, but still his heart's the

same; For often, dame, his talk's of you, and always to one tune; But there, his ship is nearly home, and he'll be with you soon.” “O is he really coming home, and shall I really see My boy again, my own boy, home; and when, when will it be? Did you say soon ?"-"Well, he is home; keep cool, old

dame; he's here." : “O, Robert, my own blessëd boy !"_“O, mother-mother dear !"

BENNETT.

82. WHY SHOULD NOT I BE MERRY? The sun is careering in glory and might, Mid the deep blue sky and the clouds so bright; The billow is tossing its foam on high, And the summer breezes go lightly by; The air and the water dance, glitter, and play, And why should not I be as merry as they? The linnet is singing the wild wood through, The fawn's bounding footsteps skim over the dew, The butterfly flits round the blossoming tree, And the cowslip and blue-bell are bent by the bee: All the creatures that dwell in the forest are gay, And why should not I be as merry as they ?

MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.

98

THE TRYSTING.

83. THE TRYSTING.

We were young sisters,—we were four,
That passed from out the cottage door,
And danced with linked hands, merrily,
Down to the maple trysting-tree.
The rough brown bark we smoothed away,
And wrote, “Here, on the next May-day,
We'll come the morning-star to see,
Beneath the maple trysting-tree.”

First Alice-she was eldest-came;
Then Mary feebly wrote her name,
And, smiling, gave the style to me,
To write upon the trysting-tree.
Then Lilian, so tall and fair,
Threw back her curls of golden hair,
And high above the other three,
She wrote upon the trysting-tree.

“ The youngest am I," then she said,
“But highest is my little head;
My name stands first, and you shall see,
I first will seek the trysting-tree.”

A year passed by,—Oh, year of pain !
When, slowly, hand in hand again,
Mary and Alice went with me,
On May-day to the trysting-tree.
The stars were shining, calm and still;
The maple shade was on the hill;
And not a bird awoke to see
Our weeping ’neath the trysting-tree.

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But low, and still, and sweet, we heard
The sleeping leaves all gently stirr'd;
We bowed our heads, we knew that she
Was waiting at the trysting-tree!

Then came the breeze, so soft and bland,
And kissed each cheek, and touched each hand;
And Lilian's spirit, heavenly free,
Was with us at the trysting-tree !

Mrs. SLADE.

84. THE CHILD IN THE WILDERNESS. ENCINCTURED with a twine of leaves,

That leafy twine his only dress !
A lovely boy was plucking fruits,

In a moonlight wilderness.
The moon was bright, the air was free,

And fruits and flowers together grew
And many a shrub and many a tree :

And all put on a gentle hue,
Hanging in the shadowy air
Like a picture rich and rare.
It was a climate where, they say
The night is more belov'd than day.

But who that beauteous Boy beguil'd
That beauteous Boy to linger here?

Alone, by night, a little child,

In place so silent and so wild-
Has he no friend, no loving mother near ?

COLERIDGE.

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