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And now again, advancing nigh,
Alas! I am an orphan boy,
With nought on earth to cheer my heart; No father's love, no mother's joy,
Nor kin nor kind to take my part.
Í eat the bread of charity;
There is no kiss, alas! for me.
A mother too I wont to prize, With ready hand to wipe the tear,
If chanced a transient tear to rise. But cause of tears was rarely found,
For all my heart was youthful glee ; And when the kiss of love went round,
How sweet a kiss there was for me!
What is a war, I cannot tell;
And loudly rang our village-bell.
I thought, nor could I once foresee That when the kiss of love went round,
There soon would be no kiss for me. A scarlet coat my father took,
And sword as bright as bright could be; And feathers, that so gaily look,
All in a shining cap had he.
Then how my little heart did bound;
Alas! I thought it fine to see ;
There soon would be no kiss for me.
At length the bell again did ring;
There was a victory, they said ; 'Twas what
father said he'd bring;
She clasped me to her trembling knee.
How wild a kiss she gave to me!
But once again—but once again,
These lips a mother's kisses felt.
The tale a heart of stone would melt
Oh God! Oh God! that sight to see!
And gave a parting kiss to me.
THE DYING BRIGAND.-Anonymous.
She stood before the dying man,
And her eye grew wildly bright-
Nor shrink from a woman's might;
before have fled :
Beware!-he is not dead!
By his blood you have tracked him to his lair!
Would you bid the spirit part?He that durst harm one single hair
Must reach it through my heart.
brain is dry-
Yet leave me, while dim life remains,
To list his parting sigh ;
Whose foes his death-pangs dread-
Back-back-he is not dead!
His was the power that held in thrall,
Through many a glorious year,
Slaves worship, hate, or fear.
A bandit chief to dwell;
It flows in the mountain wave;
Yon deep ravine-the grave !
Ah! by yon fleeting sun,
His sand of life has run!”
But her heart beat wild with fear ;-
Breathes on her sharpened ear-
And the death-damp chills her brow ;-
office now !"
THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS.-Anonymous.
I've been among the mighty Alps, and wandered thro' their vales, And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales, As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their daily work was
o'er, They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were heard
And there I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear,
“It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,
One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising high, When, from my children on the green, I heard a fearful
cry, As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain, A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.
I hurried out to learn the cause ; but overwhelmed with fright, The children never ceased to shriek, and from my frenzied sight I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care ; But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing thro'
Oh! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye,-
The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew;
All search was vain, and years had passed; that child was
ne'er forgot, When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot, From thence, upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached, He saw an infant's fleshless bones the elements had bleached !
that rugged cliff,—I could not stay away,I knew they were my infant's bones thus hastening to decay;
A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a shred; The crimson cap he wore that morn was still upon his head.”
That dreary spot is pointed out to travelers passing by,
She was an only child, her name Ginevra,
She was all gentleness, all gaiety,
Great was the joy ; but at the nuptial feast,
'Twas but that instant she had left Francisco,
alas she was not to be found ;
Weary of his life,