It is that worshiped Wife!

It is that faithful Mother!

Whom the dark Prince of Shadows leads benighted
From that dear arm where oft she hung delighted,
Far from those blithe companions born
Of her, and blooming in their morn,
On whom, when couched her heart above,
So often looked the Mother Love!

Ah! rent the sweet Home's union band!
And never, never more to come,
She dwells within the shadowy land
Who was the Mother of that Home!
How oft they miss that tender guide, -
The care, the watch, the face, the Mother!
And where she sat the babes beside

Sits, with unloving looks, Another.

VII.

While the mass is cooling now,
Let the labor yield to leisure!
As the bird upon the bough,
Loose the travail to the pleasure!
When the soft stars awaken,

Each task be forsaken!

And the vesper bell lulling the earth into peace,
If the Master still toil, chimes the workman's release.

Homeward from the tasks of day,

Through the greenwood's welcome way
Wends the workman, blithe and cheerly,
To the cottage loved so dearly;

And the eye and ear are meeting –

Now the slow sheep homeward bleating,
Now, the wonted shelter near,
Lowing the lusty-fronted steer,-
Creaking now the heavy wain
Reels with the happy harvest grain,
While with many-colored leaves
Glitters the garland on the sheaves:
For the reaper's work is done,
And the young folk's dance begun!
Desert street! and quiet mart!
Silence is in the City's heart;
And the social taper lighteth
Each dear face that Home uniteth;

While the gate the town before
Heavily swings with sullen roar.

Though darkness is spreading
O'er earth, the Upright
And the Honest undreading
Look safe on the Night,

Which the evil man watches in awe:
For the eye of the Night is the Law.

Bliss-dowered, O daughter of the skies!
Hail! holy Order! whose employ
Blends like to like in light and joy:

Builder of cities! who of old

Called the wild man from waste and wold;

And, in his hut thy presence stealing,
Roused each familiar household feeling,

And, best of all, the happy ties,

The center of the social band.

THE INSTINCT OF THE FATHERLAND!

United thus, each helping each,

Brisk work the countless hands forever:
For naught its power to Strength can teach

Like Emulation and Endeavor.

Thus linked, the master with the man,
Each in his rights can each revere;

And, while they march in Freedom's van,
Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear.

With Freedom labor is renown:

Who works gives blessings and commands.
Kings glory in the orb and crown;

Be ours the glory of our hands!

Long in these walls, long may we greet

Your footfalls, Peace! and Concord sweet!

Distant the day, O! distant far

When the rude hordes of trampling War

Shall scare the silent vale;

And where

Now the sweet heaven, when day doth leave.

The air,

Limns its soft rose hues on the veil of Eve,
Shall the fierce war brand tossing in the gale
O'er town and hamlet shake the horrent glare!

VIII.

Now, its destined task fulfilled,
Asunder break the prison mold!
Let the goodly Bell we build
Eye and heart alike behold!

The hammer down heave

Till the cover it cleave!

For not till we shatter the wall of its cell

Can we lift from its darkness and bondage the Bell.

To break the mold the Master may,
If skilled the hand and ripe the hour:
But woe! when on its fiery way
The metal seeks itself to pour.
Frantic and blind, with thunder knell
Exploding from its shattered home,
And glaring forth as from a hell,
Behold the red Destruction come!
When rages strength that has not reason,
There breaks the mold before the season:
When numbers burst what bound before,
Woe to the State, that thrives no more!
Yea, woe! when in the City's heart
The latent spark to flame is blown,
And millions from their silence start
To claim without a guide their own.
Discordant howls the warning Bell,
Proclaiming discord wide and far,
And, born but things of peace to tell,
Becomes the ghastliest voice of war.
"Freedom! Equality!"-To blood
Rush the roused people at the sound!
Through street, hall, palace, roars the flood,
And banded murder closes round.
Hyena shapes (that women were)

Jest with the horrors they survey;

They hound, they rend, they mangle there,

As panthers with their prey.

Naught rests to hallow, - burst the ties

Of life's sublime and reverent awe:

Before the Vice the Virtue flies,

And universal crime is Law.
Man fears the lion's kingly tread,

Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror;

From the dull clay the metal rise,

Pure shining as a star of gold!

Rim and crown glitter bright,

Like the sun's flash of light,

And even the 'scutcheon, clear-graven, shall tell That the art of a Master has fashioned the Bell.

Come in! come in!

My merry men! We'll form a ring,

The newborn labor christening,

And CONCORD we will name her!

To union may her heartfelt call

In brother love attune us all!

May she the destined glory win

For which the Master sought to frame her!

Aloft (all earth's existence under)

In blue pavilioned heaven afar

To dwell, the Neighbor of the Thunder,
The Borderer of the Star.

Be hers, above, a voice to raise

Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere

Who, while they move, their Maker praise,

And lead around the wreathed year!

To solemn and eternal things

We dedicate her lip sublime!

As hourly calmly on she swings
Fanned by the fleeting wings of Time,
No pulse, no heart, no feeling hers,
She lends the warning voice to Fate,
And still companions while she stirs
The changes of the Human State:
So may she teach us, as her tone,
But now so mighty, melts away,

That earth no life which earth has known
From the last silence can delay!

Slowly now the cords upheave her;
From her earth grave soars the Bell.
'Mid the airs of heaven we leave her,
In the Music Realm to dwell.

Up! upward! yet raise!

She has risen; she sways.

Fair Bell! to our City bode joy and increase!
And O! may thy first sound be hallowed to Peace!

THE MAN IN THE BELL.

BY WILLIAM MAGINN.

[WILLIAM MAGINN, Irish man of letters and typical bohemian, was born in Dublin, July 10, 1793. The son of an eminent schoolmaster, he carried on the school himself after graduation from Trinity College, Dublin, meanwhile becoming a voluminous contributor to Blackwood's and other periodicals under various pseudonyms (finally fixing on "Morgan O'Doherty "), suggesting the "Noctes Ambrosianæ" and writing some of it, and in 1823 settling in London for a literary life. He was Murray's chief man on the Representative; its foreign correspondent in Paris; returning, was joint editor of the Standard, then on the scurrilous Age. He founded Fraser's Magazine in 1830, and made it the most brilliant in Great Britain; contributed to Blackwood's and Bentley's later; and in 1838 he wrote the "Homeric Ballads" for Fraser's. His literary feuds were endless and savage. After running down for years and once being in a debtor's prison (Thackeray portrays him as "Captain Shandon" in "Pendennis"), he died August 21, 1842.]

IN my younger days bell ringing was much more in fashion among the young men of than it is now. Nobody, I believe, practices it there at present except the servants of the church, and the melody has been much injured in consequence. Some fifty years ago, about twenty of us who dwelt in the vicinity of the cathedral formed a club, which used to ring every peal that was called for; and, from continual practice and a rivalry which arose between us and a club attached to another steeple, and which tended considerably to sharpen our zeal, we became very Mozarts on our favorite instruments. But my bell-ringing practice was shortened by a singular accident, which not only stopped my performance, but made even the sound of a bell terrible to my ears.

One Sunday I went with another into the belfry to ring for noon prayers, but the second stroke we had pulled showed us