One sudden, lifted glance - but one—

A tremor and a start — So gently was their greeting done That who would guess their heart?

Long, long the sun had sunken down,
And all his golden hail

Had died away to lines of brown,
In duskier hues that fail.

The grasshopper was chirping shrill;
No other living sound
Accompanied the tiny rill

That gurgled under ground;
No other living sound, unless
Some spirit bent to hear
Low words of human tenderness
And mingling whispers near.

The stars, like pallid gems at first,
Deep in the liquid sky,

Now forth upon the darkness burst,
Sole kings and lights on high;
For splendor, myriad-fold, supreme,
No rival moonlight strove;
Nor lovelier e'er was Hesper's beam,

Nor more majestic Jove.

But what if hearts there beat that night

That recked not of the skies,

Or only felt their imaged light
In one another's eyes?

And if two worlds of hidden thought

And longing passion met, Which, passing human language, sought And found an utterance yet; And if they trembled as the flowers That droop across the stream, And muse the while the starry hours Wait o'er them like a dream; And if, when came the parting time, They faltered still and clung; What is it all?—an ancient rhyme Ten thousand times besungThat part of Paradise which man Without the portal knows,

Which hath been since the world began, And shall be till its close.

ANONYMOUS.

Lochinvar.

Он, young Lochinvar is come out of the west;
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone;

He swam the Esk river where ford there was

none;

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,

'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a

word),

"Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide;

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine; There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by

far,

That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up;

He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the

cup.

She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.