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Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the others, Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand of

the husband, Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her palfrey. Nothing is wanting now," he said with a smile, “but the

distaff; Then you would be in truth my queen, my beautiful Bertha !”

Onward the bridal procession now moved to their new

habitation, Happy hushand and wife, and friends conversing together. Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed the ford

in the forest, Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream of love

through its bosom, Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of the azure

abysses. Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his

splendors, Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches above them

suspended, Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine

and the fir-tree, Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley of

Eshcol. Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pastoral ages, Fresh with the youth of the world, and recalling Rebecca

and Isaac, Old and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful always, Love immortal and young in the endless succession of lovers. So through the Plymouth woods passed onward the bridal

procession.

BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

. . come i gru van cantando lor lai,
Facendo in aer di sè lunga riga.

DANTE.

PROMETHEUS,

OR THE POET'S FORETHOUGHT.

OF Prometheus, how undaunted

On Olympus' shining bastions His audacious foot he planted, Myths are told and songs are chaunted,

Full of promptings and suggestions.

Beautiful is the tradition

Of that flight through heavenly portals, The old classic superstition Of the theft and the transmission

Of the fire of the Immortals!

First the deed of noble daring,

Born of heavenward aspiration, ti Then the fire with mortals sharing. Then the vulture,--the despairing

Cry of pain on crags Caucasian.

All is but a symbol painted

Of the Poet, Prophet, Seer;
Only those are crowned and sainted
Who with grief have been acquainted,

Making nations nobler, freer.

In their feverish exultations,

In their triumph and their yearning

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