ADIEU TO ITALY.

"FAREWELL, farewell, once more. I love thee not As other things inanimate. Thou wert

The cherish'd mistress of my youth, — forgot

Thou never canst be while I have a heart.
Launch'd on the waters, wild with storm and wind,
I know not, ask not what may be my lot,

Thus torn from thee, no fear can touch my mind,
Brooding in silent gloom on that one thought."'e

Rev. Edmund Dorr Griffin.

THE EVENING STAR.

"BRIGHT and watchful eyes

From palaces and bowers, have hail'd thy gem
With secret transport. Natal star of love,
How much I owe thee! How I bless thy ray
How oft thy rising o'er the hamlet green,
Signal of rest and social converse sweet,
Beneath some patriarchal tree, hath cheer'd
The peasant's heart, and drawn his benison.

James A. Hillhouse.
Poem of The Judgment."

THE GOSPEL INVITATION.

"SHOULD passion's slave still wear his fiery chain,
Nor strive to cast the dreadful fetter off?
Should flatter'd beauty still be weak and vain ?
And pride, though half convinc'd, rebel and scoff?
Should low desires enthrall the undying soul?

When it might rise and soar, beyond their dark control?

"But how shall erring man escape the snare
That subtle foes have laid with sinful art?
How to the fountain of heaven's peace repair
And drink till unknown joy shall fill the heart?

Behold thou caviller! radiant at thy side,

Faith points the upward way, and seeks to be thy guide.

"Ho! every one that thirsteth!' Let the sound Strike every ear, and sink in every heart,

Let the free summons reach earth's farthest bound,

Till godless nations from their gloom shall start; Blest sound! Ho! every one that thirsteth, ho! Behold! for all mankind salvation's waters flow."

Hon. William J. Hamersley.

NATIVE PLACE.

"I'VE seen the world from side to side,

Walk'd in the ways of human pride,

Mus'd in the palaces of kings,

And mark'd what wealth to grandeur brings ;

Yet is the spot of all the earth

THE HON. JAMES HILLHOUSE, OF NEW HAVEN, CONN.

"BUT Heaven leaves not to human praise,

The recompense of well-spent days,
The cheerful morn, the short, sweet night,
The mind like sunshine, ever bright,
A breast like Hector's of such space
That strength and sweetness could embrace,
Approving conscience, growing store, -
For though God took, he gave back more,
Power to endure, and soul to feel,
No hardship such, for other's. weal
Ardor, that logic could not shake,
Resource, the non-plus ne'er to take,

A filial love of mother earth

That made keen labor seem like mirth,
All brought him to his age so green,

Revered, unblemished, and serene !”

James A. Hillhouse.

From "Poem of Sachem's Wood."

TWELVE YEARS.

"TWELVE years have flown! These words are brief,

Yet in their sound what memories dwell,
What hours of bliss, what days of grief,
What joys and woes in tumult swell;
The hopes that fill'd the youthful breast,
Alas! how many a one o'erthrown;
Deep thoughts that long had gone to rest,
Wake at the sound, twelve years are gone!

Prosper Montgomery Wetmore.

A CHANGE.

"HE allured young love, with a picture drawn in her own rose-tints, but suddenly put in a back-ground of green jealousies, and black discontent."

DEATH OF INFANCY.

"LIFE's inextinguishable beam,
With dust united at our birth,
Sheds a more dim, discolored gleam
The longer it abides on earth.
Closed in this dark abode of clay,
The stream of glory faintly burns,
Nor unobscured that lucid ray

To its own native fount returps.

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"But when the Lord of mortal breath
Decrees his bounty to resume,
And points the silent shaft of death
That speeds an infant to the tomb,
No passion fierce, no base desire

Hath quench'd the radiance of the flame,
Back to its God, the living fire

Returns, unsullied as it came."

John Quincy Adams.

President of the United States.

LOVE AND FAME.

"GIVE me the boon of love!

Renown is but a breath

Whose loudest echo ever floats

From out the halls of death:
A living glance beguiles me more
Than fame's emblazon'd seal,

And one sweet note of tenderness,
Than triumph's wildest peal.

"Give me the boon of love!

The lamp of fame shines far,
But love's soft light glows near and warm,

A cloudless household star.

One hallow'd glance can fill the soul

With a perennial fire;

But glory's flame burns fitfully,
A lone, funereal pyre.

"Give me the boon of love!

Fame's trumpet-strains depart,

But Love's sweet lute yields melody
That lingereth on the heart :

And the scroll of fame will burn

When sea and earth consume,

But the rose of love in a happier sphere,

Shall live in deathless bloom."

Henry T. Tuckerman.

THE TRANSITION.

"HER sufferings ended with the day,

Yet lived she at its close,

And breath'd the long, long night away

In statue-like repose;

"But when the sun in all his state

Illumed the eastern skies,

She pass'd through Glory's morning-gate,

And walk'd in Paradise."

Aldrich.

"WINGED thoughts flit through the heart, each leaving its little seed of good or evil."- Bishop Burgess.

THE PORTRAIT.

"THIS Semblance of your father's time-worn face,
Is but a sad bequest, my children dear,

Its youth and freshness gone, and in their place
The lines of care and tracks of many a tear.

"Yet think you still can trace within these eyes
The kindling of affection's fervid beam,
The searching glance that latent faults espies,
The fond anticipation's pleasing dream.