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DANÄE.

WHILST, around her lone ark sweeping,
Wailed the winds and waters wild,
Her young cheeks all wan with weeping,
Danãe clasped her sleeping child;
And "Alas," (cried she,) "my dearest,
What deep wrongs, what woes, are mine!
But nor wrongs nor woes thou fearest,

In that sinless rest of thine.
Faint the moonbeams break above thee,
And, within here, all is gloom;
But fast wrapt in arms that love thee,
Little reck'st thou of our doom.
Not the rude spray round thee flying,
Has e'en damped thy clustering hair,-
On thy purple mantlet lying,

O mine Innocent, my Fair!
Yet, to thee were sorrow sorrow,

Thou would'st lend thy little ear, And this heart of thine might borrow Haply yet a moment's cheer. But no; slumber on, Babe, slumber; Slumber, Ocean-waves; and you, My dark troubles, without number,— O, that ye would slumber too! Though with wrongs they've brimmed my chalice,

Grant Jove, that, in future years, This boy may defeat their malice, And avenge his mother's tears."

Translation of WILLIAM PETER,

SIMONIDES. (Greek.)

BOYHOOD.

AH, then how sweetly closed those crowded days!

The minutes parting one by one like rays,
That fade upon a summer's eve.

But oh! what charm, or magic numbers Can give me back the gentle slumbers Those weary, happy days did leave? When by my bed I saw my mother kneel, And with her blessing took her nightly kiss; Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this— E'en now that nameless kiss I feel.

WASHINGTON ALLSTON.

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I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

They wept,—and, turning homeward, cried,
"In heaven we all shall meet; 19
When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
And by the low stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed— The marks were still the same: They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none !

-Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;

And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTII.

CHILDHOOD.

In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse
Upon the days gone by; to act in thought
Past seasons o'er, and be again a child;
To sit in fancy on the turf-clad slope
Down which the child would roll; to pluck
gay flowers,

Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand

(Childhood offended soon, soon reconciled,) Would throw away, and straight take up again,

Then fling them to the winds, and o'er the lawn

Bound with so playful and so light a foot, That the pressed daisy scarce declined her head.

CHARLES LAMB.

UNDER MY WINDOW.

UNDER my window, under my window, All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls with fluttering curls

Flit to and fro together :

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There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather.

Under my window, under my window,
Leaning stealthily over,

Merry and clear, the voice I hear

Of each glad-hearted rover.
Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses;
And Maud and Bell twine wreaths and posies,
As merry as bees in clover.

Under my window, under my window,
In the blue Midsummer weather,
Stealing slow, on a hushed tip-toe,
I catch them all together:-
Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen,
And Maud with her mantle of silver-green,
And Kate with the scarlet feather.

Under my window, under my window,
And off through the orchard closes;
While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts,
They scamper and drop their posies;
But dear little Kate takes nought amiss,
And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss,
And I give her all my roses.

T. WESTWOOD.

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

I REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups—
Those flowers made of light!

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