Thou dost herald no longer Apollo, And pale is his armor of fire. From a loftier height than Olympus As it paused in the sepulchre's gloom. Far down on the hill-tops she tosses The first golden lilies of day. On the mountains her sandals are glowing, Till earth is all rosy and radiant For the feet of the new-risen King. Open the gates of the Temple; Spread branches of palm and of bay; Let not the spirits of nature Alone deck the Conqueror's way. While Spring from her death sleep arises While Morning's smile lights up the heavens, He is here! The long watches are over, The stone from the grave rolled away. "We shall sleep," was the sigh of the midnight; "We shall rise," is the song of to-day. O Music! no longer lamenting, On pinions of tremulous flame And swell the new song of His fame! The altar is snowy with blossoms, And crown Him with Lilies of Light! FRANCES L. MACE. A EVE AND THE SERPENT. FRENCHMAN'S idea of the modus operandi by which that objectionable reptile, the serpent, carried out his programme with Eve, is thus pleasingly narrated in the French gentleman's broken English: "Monsieur Adam he walked up, he sees une belle demoiselle aslip in ze garden. Viola de la chance. 'Bon jour, Madame Iv.' Madame Iv she wake; she hole her fan before to her face. Adam put up his eyeglass to admire ze tableau. Zey make one promenade. Madame Iv she feel hungry. She sees appel on ze arbre. Serpent ze promene sur l'arbre, make one walk on ze tree. 'Monsieur Serpent,' says Iv,' Weel you have not ze bonte to peek me some appel, j'ai faime?' 'Certainment, madame,' say ze serpent, 'charme de vous voir.' 'Holo, mon ami, ar-r-r-eter vous,' say Adam; 'stop que songez vous faire! What madness is zees? You must not peek ze appel.' Ze snake he take one pinch of snuff; he say: 'Ah, Monsieur Adam, do you not know there is nothing prohebeet for ze ladies? Madame Iv, permeet me to offer you some of this fruit defendu.' Iv she make one courtesy. Ze snake he fill her whole parasol wiz appel." TOM. YES, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew. Just listen to this: When the old mill took fire, and the flooring fell through, And I with it, helpless there, full in my view The shining? He must have come there after me, Any one's missing him. Then, what a shout- Again and again They tried, but the fire held them back like a wall. We're coming to get you as fast as we can." The sound of his mother's voice shrieking his name The axes went faster: I saw the sparks fly Where the men worked like tigers, nor minded the heat That scorched them,-when, suddenly, there at their feet, The great beams leaned in-they saw him-then, crash, The sight of the child there,-when swift, at my side, Oh, how the men raved, Shouted, and cried, and hurrahed! Then they all Where I was lying, away from the fire, Should fall in and bury me. Oh! you'd admire To see Robin now: he's as bright as a dime, Yes, Tom was our dog. ST. JOHN THE AGED. 'M growing very old. This weary head I' groans, That hath so often leaned on Jesus' breast, In days long past that seem almost a dream, Is bent and hoary with its weight of years. These limbs that followed him, my Master, oft! From Galilee to Judah; yea, that stood Beneath the cross and trembled with his Refuse to bear me even through the streets To preach unto my children. E'en my lips Refuse to form the words my heart sends forth. My ears are dull; they scarcely hear the sobs Of my dear children gathered 'round my couch; My eyes so dim, they cannot see their tears. God lays his hand upon me,—yea, his HAND, And not his ROD—the gentle hand that I Felt, those three years, so often pressed in mine, In friendship such as passeth woman's love. I'm old, so old! I cannot recollect The words and deeds that make up daily life; Some seventy years ago I was a fisher by the sacred sea. It was at sunset. How the tranquil tide Bathed dreamily the pebbles! How the light Crept up the distant hills, and in its wake |