NIGHT

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

In all the world loves me; e'en the little dogs Caresses gently my tangled hair,

run

When I wander too near them; 'tis won

drous to see,

And a voice like the carol of some wild bird
The sweetest voice that was ever heard-
Calls me many a dear pet name,

How everything shrinks from a beggar like Till my heart and spirits are all aflame;

me!

Perhaps 'tis a dream; but, sometimes, when And tells me of such unbounded love,

N

JOHN BUNYAN.

OW just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the city shone like the sun; the streets, also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord." And after that they shut up the gates; which when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance coming up to the river side; but he soon got over, and that without half the difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was then in that place one VainHope, a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the other, I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate, only he came alone; neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was coming up to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him: but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, "Whence come you, and what would you have?". . He answered, "I have eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught in

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THE SONG OF THE FORGE.

our streets." Then they asked for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, You have none!" but the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but he would not come down to see him, but commanded the two shining ones that conducted Christian and Hope ful to the city to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot and have him away. Then they took him up and carried him through the air to the door that I saw on the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction. "So I awoke. It was a dream.'

Clang, clang!-our coulter's course shall be
On many a sweet and sheltered lea,
By many a streamlet's silver tide;
Amidst the song of morning birds,
Amidst the low of sauntering herds,
Amidst soft breezes, which do stray
Through woodbine hedges and sweet May,
Along the green hill's side.

When regal Autumn's bounteous nand
With wide-spread glory clothes the land.-
When to the valleys, from the brow
Of each resplendent slope, is rolled

A ruddy sea of living gold,-
We bless, we bless the plough.

DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.

305

Clang, clang-again, my mates, what grows
Beneath the hammer's potent blows?
Clink, clank!-we forge the giant chain,
Which bears the gallant vessel's strain
Midst stormy winds and adverse tides;
Secured by this, the good ship braves
The rocky roadstead, and the waves
Which thunder on her sides.

Anxious no more, the merchant sees
The mist drive dark before the breeze,
The storm-cloud on the hill;
Calmly he rests,-though far away,
In boisterous climes, his vessel lay,-
Reliant on our skill.

Say on what sands these links shall sleep,
Fathoms beneath the solemn deep?
By Afric's pestilential shore;
By many an iceberg, lone and hoar;
By many a balmy western isle,
Basking in spring's perpetual smile;
By stormy Labrador.

Say, shall they feel the vessel reel,
When to the battery's deadly peal
The crashing broadside makes reply;
Or else, as at the glorious Nile,
Hold grappling ships, that strive the while
For death or victory?

Hurrah-cling, clang!--once more, what
glows,

Dark brothers of the forge, beneath
The iron tempest of your blows,

The furnace's red breath?

Clang, clang--a burning torrent, clear
And brilliant of bright sparks, is poured
Around, and up in the dusky air,

As our hammers forge the sword.
The sword!-a name of dread! yet when
Upon the freeman's thigh 'tis bound,—
While for his altar and his hearth,
While for the land that gave him birth,
The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound,-
How sacred is it then!

Whenever for the truth and right
It flashes in the van of fight,--
Whether in some wild mountain pass,
As that where fell Leonidas;
Or on some sterile plain and stern,
A Marston or a Bannockburn;
Or amidst crags and bursting rills,
The Switzer's Alps, gray Tyrol's hills;
Or as, when sunk the Armada's pride,
It gleams above the stormy tide,-
Still, still, whene'er the battle word
Is liberty, when men do stand
For justice and their native land,-
Then Heaven bless the sword!

DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.

T

N. P. WILLIS.

HE waters slept. Night's silvery veil
hung low

On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies
curled

Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurs
Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way,
And leaned, in graceful attitude, to rest.
How strikingly the course of nature tells

Their glassy rings beneath it, like By its light heed of human suffering,