Then on it went, through the rough waste lands,

Where the tangled briars meet,

Till the prickles scratched its dimpled hands,

And wounded its tender feet.

It could not see before it well,

And its limbs grew stiff and cold;

And at last it cried; for it could not tell

Its way to the open wold.

So the child knelt down on the damp green sod, While it said its evening prayer;

And it fell asleep, as it thought of God,

Who was listening to it there.

A long, long sleep, for they found it there,

When the sun went down next day;

And it looked like an angel, pale and fair,
But its cheek was cold as clay!

The sunbeams glanced on the drops of dew

That lay on its ringlets bright,

And sparkled in every brilliant hue

Like a coronet formed of light.

E. B.

WARNING FROM THE GOLD-MINE.

YE, who rend my bed of earth,
Mark me! from my lowly birth,
Ye to light in me will bring
What will rise to be your king!
I shall rule with tyrant sway,

Till ye rue my natal day:

High and low my power shall own;

For I'll make the world my throne!

And my worshippers shall be
Martyrs, dupes, or slaves to me.
Love and Friendship, on the way
To their idol, they will slay.
Conscience, I will still her cr;
Truth for me shall bleed and aie!
I will prove a chain, to bind

Down to earth th' immortal mind!

Though ye try me by the fire,
This will only heat my ire;

Though my form ye oft may change,

"Twill but give me wider range!

For my sake the poor must feel

On his face his neighbor's heel:
Then, I'll turn; and taking wing,

Leave with avarice but a sting.

Ye shall sell your peace through time, —

And a long eternity

Of remorse shall come by me!

Now, I'm here, without defence;

But, if once I'm taken hence,
Man shall eat the bitter fruit

Springing from a golden root!

H. F. GOULD.

THE TOMB OF BLUCHER.

Ar! soldier, weep that grave beside,
Ay! fix thy heart's intenser gaze:

There sleeps no son of useless pride,
There speaks no lie of purchased praise!
When Prussia, in her evil hour,

Was crushed, for errors not her own;

When on her rained the iron shower,

That wrapt the cot, and wrapt the throne;

When all was famine, flame, and gore;

When died the noble and the brave;

When courage fled, and hope was o'er,
And man's best refuge was the grave;

Then, he who slumbers at thy feet,

Snapped, with one sabre blow, the chain,

And, like the lightning's fiery sheet,

Unfurled the Prussian's eagle-vane.

The Prussian trump was at his lips;

It sounded like the trump of doom! Fled, at its blast, the land's eclipse, Burst, at its blast, the nation's tomb. Then, paled Napoleon's guilty star,

Then, France, thy tiger-heart was tame; Then, Europe rose to glorious war,

And BLUCHER was man's guiding flame!

FROM THE GERMAN.