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THE MINSTREL'S RETURN.

BY JOHN H. HEWITT.

THE minstrel's returned from the war,
With spirits as buoyant as air;
And thus on his tuneful guitar,

He sings in the bower of his fair.
The noise of the battle is over,
The bugle no more calls to arms;
A soldier no more, but a lover,

I kneel to the power of thy charms!
Sweet lady, dear lady, I'm thine,
I bend to the magic of beauty;
Though the helmet and banner are mine,
Yet, love calls the soldier to duty.

The minstrel his suit warmly pressed,

She blushed, sighed, and hung down her head;
Till conquered she fell on his breast,
And thus to the happy youth said-
"The bugle shall part us, love, never;
My bosom thy pillow shall be ;
Till death tears thee from me forever,
Still faithful, I'll perish with thee."
Sweet lady, dear lady, I'm thine,

I bend to the magic of beauty;
Though the helmet and banner are mine,
Yet, love calls the soldier to duty.

But fame called the youth to the field,
His banner waved over his head;
He gave his guitar for a shield,

But soon he laid low with the dead:
While she o'er her young hero bending,
Received his expiring adieu;

'I die while my country defending, With heart to my lady love true." "Oh! death!" then she sighed, "I am thine; I tear off the roses of beauty;

For the grave of my hero is mine,

He died true to love and to duty."

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

BY JOHN S. PIERPONT.

THE pilgrim fathers-where are they?
The waves that brought them o'er
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray
As they break along the shore;

Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day,
When the May-Flower moored below,
When the sea around was black with storms,
And white the shore with snow.

The mists, that wrapped the pilgrim's sleep,
Still brood upon the tide;

And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep,

To stay its waves of pride.

But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale,
When the heavens looked dark, is gone ;-
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud,
Is seen, and then withdrawn.

The pilgrim exile-sainted name !-
The hill, whose icy brow

Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame
In the morning's flame burns now.

And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night
On the hill-side and the sea,

Still lies where he laid his houseless head ;-
But the pilgrim-where is he?

The pilgrim fathers are at rest:

When Summer's throned on high,

And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, Go, stand on the hill where they lie.

The earliest ray of the golden day

On that hallowed spot is cast;

And the evening sun, as he leaves the world,

Looks kindly on that spot last.

The pilgrim spirit has not fled :

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It walks in noon's broad light;

And it watches the bed of the glorious dead,
With the holy stars, by night.

It watches the bed of the brave who have bled,

And shall guard this ice-bound shore,

Till the waves of the bay, where the May-Flower lay, Shall foam and freeze no more.

ROMAN CATHOLIC CHANT.

BY J. A. HILLHOUSE.

O, HOLY VIRGIN, call thy child;
Her spirit longs to be with thee;
For, threatening, lower those skies so mild,
Whose faithless day-star dawned for me.

From tears released to speedy rest,

From youthful dreams which all beguiled,
To quiet slumber on thy breast,

O, holy Virgin, call thy child.

Joy from my darkling soul is fled,

And haggard phantoms haunt me wild;
Despair assails, and Hope is dead:
O, holy Virgin, call thy child.

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YOUR HEART IS A MUSIC-BOX, DEAREST!

BY MRS. OSGOOD.

YOUR heart is a music-box, dearest !
With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;

But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break.
Then, oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake!
And there's one little tune it can play,
That I fancy all others above-

You learned it of Cupid one day

It begins with and ends with "I love!"
"I love!"

It begins with and ends with "I love!"

A PORTRAIT.

BY NATHAN C. BROOKS.

THROUGH the gazer's breast is stealing
A pure rapture sweet and wild;
While thy face, its charms revealing,
Fair as snowflakes undefiled,

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