Like the wild stag she flees away, Her fear plants many a thicket wild; While he pursues her night and day, By various arts of love beguiled; By various arts of love and hate; Where roam the lion, wolf, and boar,) Till he becomes a wayward babe, The sun and stars are nearer roll'd; The trees bring forth sweet ecstasy Till many a city there is built, And many a pleasant shepherd's home. But when they find the frowning babe, Terror strikes through the region wide,— They cry, "The Babe, the Babe is born!" And flee away on every side. For who dare touch the frowning form, Lions, bears, wolves, all howling flee, And none can touch that frowning form, Except it be a woman old; She nails him down upon the rock, And all is done as I have told. THE LAND OF DREAMS. AWAKE, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother's only joy. Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? O, what land is the Land of Dreams, What are its mountains, and what are its streams? O Father, I saw my Mother there, Among the lilies by waters fair. 66 Among the lambs clothed in white, She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight; I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn, O, when shall I again return ?" Dear child, I also by pleasant streams, Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams. But though calm and warm the waters wide, I could not get to the other side. แ Father, O Father! what do we here, In this land of unbelief and fear? The Land of Dreams is better far Above the light of the Morning Star." MARY. WEET Mary, the first time she ever was there, Came into the ball-room among the fair, The young men and maidens around her throng. And these are the words upon every tongue :— "An Angel is here from the heavenly climes, Or again does return the golden times; Her eyes outshine every brilliant ray; She opens her lips—'tis the month of May. 66 Mary moves in soft beauty and conscious delight To augment with sweet smiles all the joys of the night, In the morning the villagers rose with delight But no friend from henceforward thou, Mary, shalt see. * * N |