14. THE MOTHER AND CHILD —Abercrombie. "Twas on a cliff whose rocky base Baffled the briny wave; Whose cultured heights their verdant store To many a tenant gave; A mother, led by rustic cares, With what delight the mother glowed How oft would pause, amid her toil, At length, by other cares estranged, Cropt was each flower that caught his eye, 'Twas then, the mother from her toil She saw him on the cliff's rude brink He turned, and on his mother smiled, Sunk was her voice, 'twas vain to fly, 'Twas vain the brink to brave; Oh! nature it was thine alone To prompt the means to save.. She tore the kerchief from her breast 15. THE ORPHAN.—Anonymous. I have no mother!-for she died But her memory still, around my heart, They tell me of an angel form And that same hand that held my own And the joy that sparkled in her eyes For they say the mother's heart is pleased I wonder if she thinks of me In that bright happy land: For I know she is in heaven now→ I remember, too, when I was ill, And the tear that fell upon my cheek- And I have still some little books She learned me how to spell; Ånd then she used to kneel with me, And raise my little hands to heaven, Oh, mother! mother! in my heart 16. MOTHER, WHAT IS DEATH?-Anonymous. " Mother, how still the baby lies! I cannot see his laughing eyes- My little work I thought to bring, They say that he again will rise, "Daughter, do you remember, dear, I told you that Almighty power Look at the chrysalis, my love,- Now raise your wandering glance above, "Oh, yes, mamma! how very gay Its wings of starry gold And see! it lightly flies away Young Casablanca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the Nile) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. The boy stood on the burning deck Yet beautiful and bright he stood, A creature of heroic blood, The flames rolled on-he would not go, He called aloud :-" say, father, say He knew not that the chieftain lay Speak, father!" once again he cried, And"-but the booming shots replied- Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked from that lone post of death, And shouted but once more aloud, 'My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, There came a burst of thunder sound- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 18. THE BATTLE OF BUSACO.—Anonymous. Beyond Busaco's mountains dun, High on the heath our tents were spread, The banners flapped incessantly. The loud war-trumpet woke the morn, The orb of day, in crimson dye, |