Bid me not lay my bosom bare.

Now name the one thing that you want,
That thing I promise thee to grant !"
He spake-"I'd know the thing forbidden,
Lay bare that beauteous bosom hidden !"

"Fatal decree!" Urania cried,
And tore apart her vesture wide,
"Behold! the folly of the answer!"
Her bosom was a living CANCER!
The hills of snow were all beneath
A hideous charnal house of death,
Corruption fattened on each part,
And made a hollow to her heart!
While all without, that seemed so fair,
Within was but a sepulchre !

An instant's gaze, too dead to speak,
One glance of horror, and one shriek,
One laugh, as if his lungs would crack,
And out he ran, a MANIAC!

WINTER.

A CHRISTMAS STORY.

Ir was a bright December morn,

The fences all were white with frost; And on the locust's leaf and thorn

A fairy lace-work was embossed. Each pendant bough was tipped with pearlA frozen, crystal pearl of price; And where the mill-wheel used to whirl,

Its oaken arms are spiked with ice.
Where moved the waters 'neath the skim,
So pure, translucent o'er the stream,

The fish were seen, all still and dim,
As half in death and half in dream.

A traveller from a village inn,

Far in the wildwoods of the West, Who for the night a guest had been, Upon his journey early pressed.

With dawn the thrifty blacksmith rose,
And yet ere while his shop was dark,
Strong on his windy bellows blows-
Anon the ruddy furnace glows,

And charcoal snaps with many a spark.
With leathern apron tied with strings-
From bare brown arm his sleeve he turns,
Then loud his stroke on anvil rings,
And crimson red the iron burns.

And now the traveller passes by
The woodman and his faithful dog,
And stoutly doth the yeoman ply
His keen, bright axe on mossy log;
Loud from the barn upon the hill

Are heard the flapping wings and crow, Where, searching corn-grains round the mill, The feathered flock instinctive go;

Or through the barn-yard nimbly tread,
Where the tall stalks and blades of corn,
Unmixed with flinty ears are spread,
Long ere the sound of breakfast horn.
There feed the slow, huge ox and cows,
Here lazy geese, one foot updrawn ;
There turkeys, perched upon the boughs,
Doubt to descend upon the lawn.
Soon comes the maid, with smoking milk,
And from the stables, all astir

With horses combed as fine as silk,
And cracking whip, the wagoner.

But, 'mid this cheerful, mingled noise,
The traveller may not stop to rest;
His heart is not alive to joys,

But seeks its home far in the West;
For he has been away for years,

And all the land seems strange to him, And through his eye's imprisoned tears, The very golden sun is dimThe sun, that bursting through the mist, Which all the frozen mill-pond shrouds, Shoots streaks of red and amethyst,

Between the grey and purple clouds, And falls with warm and silent stroke Where frost upon the brown leaf sleeps,

"Till all the silvered fences smoke,

And every mournful cedar weeps.

Then chirps the sparrow in the hedge,

And where the warm spring wends astray

'Mid cresses, green, and yellow sedge,

The wild fowl makes her quiet way,

And on the leafless bramble briar,
Hops undisturbed and tame,
The Red Bird, in his dress of fire,
Bright as a torch of flame.

And he, with voice so loud, so clear,
And cheerfully did sing,

It filled the morning atmosphere,
And made the echo ring-

And with his burnished eye so bright,
Turned down from towering oak,
The jetty crow paused in his flight,
And gave his signal croak.

O'er stubble fields the traveller crossed,
With crisp and crushing tread,
And startled, trampling on the frost,

The rabbit from his bed.

From his warm nest the timid elf

Flies, frightened near to death, Bounds off, pursued but by himself, Alarmed at his own breath.

"Thus," said the traveller, "are my fears, The phantoms of my mind,

And through the long, dark lapse of years I dread to look behind.

My father, noble, brave old man,

Can he be yet alive?

For since we met the

years

have ran

Beyond the score of five.

And five long years, by sea and shore,

Since I my brothers saw;

More merry hearts men never bore,

Nor honest breath did draw;