I HAE NAEBODY NOW.

I HAE naebody now, I hae naebody now,

To meet me upon the green,
Wi' light locks waving o'er her brow,
An' joy in her deep blue e'en;

Wi' the raptured kiss, an' the happy smile,
An' the dance o' the lightsome fay,
An' the wee bit tale o' news the while
That had happen'd when I was away.

I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now,
To clasp to my bosom at even,
O'er her calm sleep to breathe the vow,
An' pray for a blessing from Heaven;
An' the wild embrace, an' the gleesome face,
In the morning that met my eye,

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful

array,

Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas Autumn, and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the cornreapers sung.

I swore

For the child o' their earthly love. To see a flower, in its vernal hour, By slow degrees decay, Then calmly aneath the hand o' death, Breathe its sweet soul away!

Oh, dinna break, my poor auld heart,

Nor at thy loss repine,

For the unseen hand that threw the dart Was sent frae her Father and thine. Yet I maun mourn, an' I will mourn,

Even till my latest day,

For though my darling can never return, I shall follow thee soon away.

JAMES HOGG.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

OUR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,

And the sentinel stars set their watch in

the sky,

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,

From my home and my weeping friends

never to part;

My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.

"Stay, stay with us; rest,-thou art weary and worn!"

And fain was their war-broken soldier

to stay,

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted

away.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

BINGEN ON THE RHINE.

A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears, But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebb'd away,

And bent, with pitying glances, to hea what he might say.

The dying soldier falter'd as he took that comrade's hand,

And he said, "I never more shall see my

own, my native land;

Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine,

again.

the Rhine.

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around

"There's another-not a sister: in the happy days gone by,

You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;

when the day was done

And 'midst the dead and dying were some grown old in wars,

The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;

But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline,

Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen

My body will be out of pain—my soul be out of prison),

I dream'd I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine.

gen on the Rhine.

"Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age,

And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage,

For my father was a soldier, and even as a child

My heart leap'd forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;

And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,

I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword,

And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine

On the cottage-wall at Bingen-calm Bingen on the Rhine.

Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops are marching home again with glad and gallant tread, But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,

For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die.

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her

in my name

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,

And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen-dear Bingen on the Rhine.

Bingen on the Rhine.

THE CHESS-BOARD.

My little love, do you remember,

Ere we were grown so sadly wise, Those evenings in the bleak December, Curtain'd warm from the snowy weather, When you and I play'd chess together,

Checkmated by each other's eyes? Ah, still I see your soft white hand Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight. Brave Pawns in valiant battle stand: The double Castles guard the wings: The Bishop, bent on distant things, Moves sidling through the fight.

Our fingers touch; our glances meet, And falter; falls your golden hair Against my cheek; your bosom sweet Is heaving. Down the field, your Queen Rides slow her soldiery all between,

And checks me unaware.

Ah me! the little battle's done,
Dispersed is all its chivalry;
Full many a move since then have we
Mid Life's perplexing checkers made,
And many a game with Fortune play'd,-
What is it we have won?

This, this at least-if this alone ;-
That never, never, never more,
As in those old still nights of yore

(Ere we were grown so sadly wise),
Can you and I shut out the skies,

Shut out the world, and wintry weather,

We vow'd we would never-no, never forget,

And those vows at the time were consol

ing;

But those lips that echo'd the sounds of mine

Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine,
Has shrouded its fires for ever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
And my heart grows full of weeping;
Each star is to me a sealèd book,

Some tale of that loved one keeping.
We parted in silence-we parted in tears,
On the banks of that lonely river:
But the odor and bloom of those bygone

years

Shall hang o'er its waters for ever.

JULIA CRAWFORD

FAREWELL! BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR.

FAREWELL! but whenever you welcome

the hour

That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,

Then think of the friend who once wel

comed it too.

And forgot his own griefs to be happy with

you.

ROBERT BULWER LYTTON.

WE PARTED IN SILENCE.

WE parted in silence, we parted by night, On the banks of that lonely river; Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite,

We met and we parted for ever! The night-bird sung, and the stars above Told many a touching story,

Of friends long pass'd to the kingdom of love,

Where the soul wears its mantle of glory.

We parted in silence-our cheeks were

wet

With the tears that were past controlling;

main

Of the few that have brighten'd his path

way of pain

But he ne'er will forget the short vision that

threw

Its enchantment around him while lingering with you!

And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up

To the highest top-sparkle each heart and each cup,

Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,

My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night

Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,

And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles;