THE SKATER'S SONG.

BY EPHRAIM PEABODY.

AWAY! away

!our fires stream bright

Along the frozen river,

And their arrowy sparkles of brilliant light
On the forest branches quiver.

Away, away, for the stars are forth,
And on the pure snows of the valley,
In a giddy trance the moonbeams dance-
Come let us our comrades rally.

Away, away, o'er the sheeted ice,
Away, away, we go;

On our steel-bound feet we move as fleet

As deer o'er the Lapland snow.

What though the sharp north winds are out The skater heeds them not;

Midst the laugh and shout of the joyous rout Gray winter is forgot.

'Tis a pleasant sight, the joyous throng

In the light of the reddening flame,
While with many a wheel on the ringing steel
They wage their riotous game :

And though the night-air cutteth keen,
And the white moon shineth coldly,

Their homes I ween, on the hills have been,
They should breast the strong blast boldly.

Let others choose more gentle sports,
By the side of the winter's hearth,

Or at the ball or the festival,

Seek for their share of mirth;

But as for me, away, away,

Where the merry skaters be,

Where the fresh wind blows and the smooth

ice glows,

There is the place for me.

OGILVIE.

BY WILLIAM B. WALTER.

"Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few seasons and the blast of the desert comes; it howls in thy empty court and whistles round thy half-worn shield."

THERE is a wail of sorrow spread
Far o'er the waters deep!-
Scotland! we know thy son is dead,
And we with thee would weep.
Oh! there are dreams we look upon-
A presence loved, is past!

It speaks of memories that are gone,
All lovely to the last!

And art thou gone, bright spirit,

To thine eternal place?

Shalt thou no more inherit

The splendors of thy race?-
Dost thou no longer smile at fate,
Wandering on earth alone ?—
And is the temple desolate,

The shrine and spirit gone?—

Thine was a name to cherish,

Thou gifted one and proud!
Not doomed from earth to perish
With the poor common crowd!
Bright Honor and fair Courtesy,
Last, of a noble line!

The glow of ancient Chivalry,
Great heart! were ever thine.

Thy life, a splendid vision,

That now has passed away!—

Majestic, bright, elysian,

The glory of a day!

Oh! brighter than the coronet,
Thy virtues' living rays!-
They beam upon our memories yet,
Son of the winged days!

To realms of silence banished,
Hurled from his burning throne,

The imperial bird is vanished,
And rent his radiant zone !-

Still are the lips, all eloquent,

That charmed our raptured earsThe thunder of the firmament !

The music of the spheres!

OGILVIE.

The wild birds now are nesting,

On his lone turrets high !— And there the stork is resting

From her long flight, in the sky! Faded the ravished bowers,

Where he was wont to roam;

In ruins heaped the towers,

That once he called his home.

All sadly lone and desolate!

No banner's pomp is seen!

Where monarchs sat enthroned in state,
Dark Ruin's scythe has been !

But Friendship and Affection,

Shall long their vigils keep,

With wakening recollection

To mourn his dreamless sleep!

'Tis past we gather flowers,
Sweet flowers of earliest bloom-
Bright emblems of departed hours,
To hang around his tomb!

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