Of moments passed, with those we love, The jest, the laugh had circled round, Which moves, at once, and melts the soul, Sweet harmony of circling spheres. HOME. "The music of Carrol was like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant, but mournful to the soul."—Ossian. HOME of my careless infancy, How dear, each well-remembered scene, Is eloquent, of what has been. How dear, yet ah! how painful too; Departed joys, of days gone by, As slowly on, your visions roll, Like music, wafted on the gale, When midnight stillness wraps the land, THE HEART'S TRIBUTE, TO AN ABSENT FRIEND.* "Wi' melting heart, an' brimfu' eye, WHEN friends are met, and beaming mirth Why wanders oft, the absent thought, 'Tis the silent tribute, of heart to heart, And 'tis wafted off, on that secret sigh, And why, amid its wreathéd smiles, There's ONE, his name's in all our hearts, For whom, where'er he be, Our kindest thoughts, our fondest prayers, Are wafted o'er the sea: May the spirit of health, be on every breeze, And of joy, in every ray, And may God, in mercy, protect the friend Whom we love, while far away! *The Rt. Rev. Bp. Hobart. THE MOURNED-THE LOVED-THE LOST. WHY, on the vanished look, the by-past tone, Why, for her pillaged nestling mourns the dove, Why is it, that around the loved and lost, Mysterious Sympathy! thy secret source, Though each effect, we feel and know so well. 'Tis thine, the withered floweret, most to prize, To twine life's best affections, round the dead. ON A VERY OLD WEDDING RING. The Device-Two hearts united. The motto "Dear love of mine, my heart is thine." I LIKE that ring, that ancient ring, I like it, for it wafts me back, Far, far along the stream of time, To other men, and other days, To men and days, of deeds sublime. But most I like it, as it tells The tale of well-requited love; How warmly he his suit preferred, He won his "fair and blooming bride." They stood, in all their youthful pride, And spoke those words, and vowed those vows, All this it tells; the plighted troth, I like its old and quaint device; "Two blended hearts,"-though time may wear them; No mortal change, no mortal chance, "Till death," shall e'er in sunder tear them. Year after year; 'neath sun and storm, Their hopes in heaven, their trust in God, In changeless, heartfelt, holy love, These two the world's rough pathways trod. Age might impair their youthful fires, Their strength might fail, 'mid life's bleak weather, Still hand in hand, they travelled on ; Kind souls! they slumber now together. I like its simple poesy too : "Mine own dear love, this heart is thine!" Thine, when the dark storm howls along, As when the cloudless sunbeams shine. "This heart is thine, mine own dear love!" Thine, and thine only, and for ever; Thine, till the springs of life shall fail, Remnant of days departed long; Emblem of plighted troth unbroken; Pledge of devoted faithfulness; Of heartfelt, holy love, the token; What varied feelings, round it cling! For these, I like that ancient ring. SONS OF THE GREEKS: Δεύτε παιδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων. "SONS of the Greeks, arise!" And gird your armour on ; Avenge your fathers' wrong. Sons of the helméd brave Who held Thermopylæ, Dare, as they dared, the turbaned slave, And Greece shall yet be free. Shades of the brave, who bled And still, round glory's hallowed bed, |