Yet shall we cherish not the less

All that is left our hearts meanwhile; The memory of thy loveliness

Shall round our weary pathway smile,
Like moonlight when the sun has set-
A sweet and tender radiance yet.

Thoughts of thy clear-eyed sense of duty,
Thy generous scorn of all things wrong-
The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty
Which blended in thy song,-

All lovely things by thee beloved,

Shall whisper to our hearts of thee;

These green hills, where thy childhood roved

Yon river winding to the sea

The sunset light of autumn eves
Reflecting on the deep, still floods,

Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves
Of rainbow-tinted woods,-

These, in our view, shall henceforth take

A tenderer meaning for thy sake;
And all thou loved of earth and sky,

Seem sacred to thy memory.

MEMORY AND HOPE.

CHARLES KEN VORTHY, BORN AT MANCHESTER, IN SEPTEMBER 1773, DIED IN THE SAME CITY, JULY 31, 1850. HIS EPITAPH IN RUSHOLME CEMETERY IS A VERY PLAINTIVE ONE, 66 NAMELY: HERE SLUMBERS SORROW'S CHILD."

MEMORY and Hope were given to bless,
But, ah! they only pain and grieve me;
The one looks backward, to distress,

The other forward, to deceive me.

My days of youth, of love, and joy,

'Mid Beauty's charms and grandeur's glitter, Memory reviews them with a sigh;

Remember'd bliss makes grief more bitter.

Hope to the future points,—and smiles,

And tells of bliss and bowers enchanting

Each day the Flatterer me beguiles,

Still aches my heart, some dear thing wanting.

My yesterdays could I forget,

Nor fondly hope for bliss each morrow,

Life's boon I might enjoy-nor let

The passing hour be blanched with sorrow.

A PETITION TO TIME.

66

BRYAN WALTER PROCTER. FROM ENGLISH SONGS," 1832.

TOUCH us gently, Time!

Let us glide adown thy stream

Gently,

-as we sometimes glide

Through a quiet dream!

Humble voyagers are we,

Husband, wife, and children three

(One is lost, an angel, fled

To the azure overhead!)

Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings:

Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.

Humble voyagers are we,

O'er Life's dim unsounded sea,
Seeking only some calm clime :---
Touch us gently, gentle Time!

MINGUILLO.

FROM ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS, HISTORICAL AND ROMANTIC," TRANSLATED BY J. G. LOCKHART.

SINCE for kissing thee, Minguillo,
My mother scolds me all the day,
Let me have it quickly, darling!
Give me back my kiss, I pray.

If we have done aught amiss,
Let's undo it while we may,
Quickly give me back the kiss,
That she may have nought to say.

Do-she keeps so great a pother,
Chides so sharply, looks so grave;
Do, my love, to please my mother,
Give me back the kiss I gave.

Out upon you, false Minguillo !

One you give, but two you take;
Give me back the two, my darling!

Give them, for my mother's sake.

NEVER DESPAIR.

FROM "VOICES FOR PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS,"
BY THOMAS FORSTER KER, 1853.

NEVER despair! though dark shadows surround thee, Let not thine heart be oppress'd with the gloom; Remember, though failure to-day may have found thee, To-morrow, success may thy pathway illume!

Never despair! though long suffering and weary;
Look forward with faith to the future's bright morn;
And despite thy dark prospects, all lonesome and dreary,
Fortune, at last, may thine efforts adorn.

Never despair! though the task long begun

Seems more than thy heart's strength can carry thee through;

Perseverance may tell thee, long ere thou hast done,

That thy strength is full strong if thou'rt willing to Do!

Never despair! like the coward and craven,

Who carp o'er the ills which they else might evade ; Nor rest till thou reacheth the goal and the haven,

And snatch the bright honours which hope long display'd!