"One was thy sainted mother's, when
She gave thee mortal birth;

And one thy Saviour's, when in death
He shook the solid earth;

Go! boy, and live as may befit
Thy life's exceeding worth!"

The boy awoke, as from a dream,
And, thoughtful, looked around,
But nothing saw, save at his feet
His mother's lowly mound,
And by its side that ancient Bell,
Half hidden in the ground!

Discomforts and diseases,

And none may 'scape his share;
But God in pity orders,

"GIV

To one whom years had rendered wise;

"Some pleasant thought, or weighty truth,
That briefest syllables comprise ;
Some word of warning or of cheer

To grave upon my signet here.

"And, reverend father," said the boy,

"Since life, they say, is ever made

A mingled web of grief and joy;

Since cares may come and pleasures fade, — Pray, let the motto have a range

Of meaning matching every change."

"Sooth!" said the sire, "methinks you ask A labor something over-nice,

That well a finer brain might task, -
What think you, lad, of this device
(Older than I, -— though I am gray),
'T is simple, —‘This will pass away'?

"When wafted on by Fortune's breeze,

In endless peace thou seem'st to glide, Prepare betimes for rougher seas,

And check the boast of foolish pride; Though smiling joy is thine to-day, Remember, 'This will pass away!'

"When all the sky is draped in black,
And, beaten by tempestuous gales,
Thy shuddering ship seems all a-wrack,
Then trim again thy tattered sails;
To grim Despair be not a prey;
Bethink thee, 'This will pass away!'

"Thus, O my son, be not o'er-proud,

Nor yet cast down; judge thou aright; When skies are clear, expect the cloud;

In darkness, wait the coming light; Whatever be thy fate to-day,

Remember, 'This will pass away!""

MAXIMILIAN.

OT with a craven spirit he

NOT
Ν

Submitted to the harsh decree That bade him die before his time, Cut off in manhood's golden prime, Poor Maximilian!

And some who marked his noble mien, His dauntless heart, his soul serene, Have deemed they saw a martyr die, And chorused forth the solemn cry,

"Great Maximilian!"

Alas! Ambition was his sin;
He staked his life a throne to win;

Counted amiss the fearful cost

(As chiefs have done before), and lost!

Rash Maximilian!

'Tis not the victim's tragic fate,

Nor calm endurance, makes him great; Mere lust of empire and renown

Can never claim the martyr's crown!

Brave Maximilian !

Alas ! — it fell, that, in thy aim
To win a sovereign's power and fame,
Thy better nature lost its force,

And royal crimes disgraced thy. course,

King Maximilian!

Alas! what ground for mercy's plea
In his behalf, whose fell decree
Gave soldiers unto felon's graves,
And freemen to the doom of slaves,

Fierce Maximilian?

I loathe the rude, barbaric wrath
That slew thee in thy vent'rous path;
But "they who take," thus saith the Lord,
"Shall also perish by the sword,"

Doomed Maximilian!

But, when I think upon the scene,
Thy fearful fate, thy wretched queen,
And mark how bravely thou didst die,
I breathe again the pitying sigh,

"Poor Maximilian!"

OF

WISHING.

F all amusements for the mind,
From logic down to fishing,
There is n't one that you can find
So very cheap as "wishing."
A very choice diversion too,
If we but rightly use it,
And not, as we are apt to do,
Pervert it, and abuse it.

I wish,

a common wish, indeed, — My purse were somewhat fatter,