THE BANNER OF MURAT." And when the moonbeams fall Through thy broad canopy upon the grass, Making a fairy hall, As o'er the sward the flitting shadows pass; Then lovers haste to thee, With hearts that tremble like that shifting light: Thou art joy's shrine-a temple of delight! THE BANNER OF MURAT. BY PROSPER M. WETMORE. "Thou, of the snow-white plume!"-Byron. FOREMOST among the first, And bravest of the brave! Where'er the battle's fury burst, Or rolled its purple wave— There flashed his glance like a meteor, As he charged the foe afar; And the snowy plume that his helmet bore, Was the banner of Murat! 143 A panoply of steel: For very joy in a glorious name, He rushed where danger stood; And that banner-plume, like a winge Streamed o'er the field of blood! His followers loved to gaze On his form with a fierce delight, As it towered above the battle's blaze A pillar 'midst the fight: And eyes looked up, ere they closed i Through the thick and sulphury ai And lips shrieked out with their parti 'The lily plume is there!' A cloud is o'er him now For the peril hour hath comeAnd he stands with his high unshaded On the fearful spot of doom: Away! no screen for a soldier's eyeNo fear his soul appals; A rattling peal—and a shuddering cryAnd bannerless he falls! JUNE. BY WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. JUNE, with its roses-June! The gladdest month of our capricious year, Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass Earth, at her joyous coming, Smiles as she puts her gayest mantle on ; While myriad voices, humming Their welcome song, breathe dreamy music round, Till seems the air an element of sound. The overarching sky Weareth a softer tint, a lovelier blue, As if the light of heaven were melting through Its sapphire home on high; A deeper melody, Poured by the birds, as o'er their callow Watchful they hover, to the breeze is fi Gladsome, yet not of glee— Music heart-born, like that which moth Above their cradled infants slumbering. On the warm hill-side, where The sunlight lingers latest, through the Peepeth the luscious strawberry! As t Young children gambol there, Crushing the gathered fruit in playful m And staining their bright faces with its b A deeper blush is given To the half-ripened cherry, as the sun Day after day pours warmth the trees up Till the rich pulp is riven; The truant school-boy looks with longing And perils limb and neck to win the prize The farmer, in his field, Draws the rich mould around the tender r While Hope, bright-pinioned, points to con ere shall be laughing eyes and tones of mirth. Poised on his rainbow wing, e butterfly, whose life is but an hour, vers coquettishly from flower to flower, A gay and happy thing; -n for the sunshine and the summer day, -n passing, like the beautiful, away! These are thy pictures, June! ghtest of summer months-thou month of flowers! st-born of Beauty, whose swift-footed hours Dance to the merry tune birds, and waters, and the pleasant shout Childhood on the sunny hills pealed out. I feel it were not wrong deem thou art a type of Heaven's clime, flowers-air-beauty-music-all are thine, |