Ere long the proud ant, as repassing the road
(Fatigued from the harvest, and tugging his load)
The beau on a violet bank he beheld,

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Whose vesture in glory a monarch's excelled;
His plumage expanded, 'twas rare to behold
So lovely a mixture of purple and gold.
The ant quite amazed at a figure so gay,
Bowed low with respect and was trudging away.
"Stop, friend," says the butterfly, "don't be surprised,
I once was the reptile you spurned and despised,
But now I can mount, in the sunbeams I play,
While you must, for ever, drudge on in your way." 30
JOHN CUNNINGHAM.

THE DOG AT HIS MASTER'S GRAVE.

"He will not come," said the gentle child,

And she patted the poor dog's head,
And she pleasantly called him and fondly smiled;
But he heeded her not in his anguish wild,
Nor arose from his lowly bed.

'Twas his master's grave where he chose to restHe guarded it night and day;

The love that glowed in his grateful breast,

For the friend who had fed, controlled, caressed,
Might never fade away.

And when the long grass rustled near,

Beneath some hasting tread,

He started up with a quivering ear,

For he thought 'twas the step of his master dear,
Returning from the dead.

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But sometimes when a storm drew nigh,

And the clouds were dark and fleet, He tore the turf with a mournful cry, As if he would force his way, or die, To his much-loved master's feet.

So there through the summer's heat he lay,
Till autumn nights grew bleak,

Till his eye grew dim with his hope's decay,
And he pined, and pined, and wasted away,
A skeleton gaunt and weak.

And oft the pitying children brought,

Their offerings of meat and bread,

And to coax him away to their homes they sought;
But his buried master he ne'er forgot,

Nor strayed from his lonely bed.

Cold winter came with an angry sway,
And the snow lay deep and sore;
Then his moaning grew fainter day by day,
Till close where the broken tombstone lay,

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He fell, to rise no more.

NAPOLEON AND THE SAILOR.

A True Story.

NAPOLEON'S banners at Boulogne

Armed in our island every freeman,

His

navy chanced to capture one

Poor British seaman.

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They suffer'd him-I know not how-
Unprisoned on the shore to roam;
And aye was bent his longing brow

On England's home.

His eye, methinks, pursued the flight
Of birds to Britain half-way over;
With envy they could reach the white

Dear cliffs of Dover.

A stormy midnight watch, he thought

Than this sojourn would have been dearer, If but the storm his vessel brought

To England nearer.

At last, when care had banished sleep,

He saw one morning-dreaming-doting,

An empty hogshead from the deep

Come shoreward floating;

He hid it in a cave, and wrought
The livelong day laborious; lurking
Until he launched a tiny boat
By mighty working.

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From neighbouring woods he interlaced
His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
And thus equipped he would have passed
The foaming billows-

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But Frenchmen caught him on the beach,
His little Argo1 sorely jeering;
Till tidings of him chanced to reach
Napoleon's hearing.

With folded arms Napoleon stood,

Serene alike in peace and danger;
And in his wonted attitude,

Addressed the stranger :

"Rash man that wouldst yon channel pass
On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned;
Thy heart with some sweet British lass
Must be impassioned."

"I have no sweetheart," said the lad;
"But-absent long from one another—
Great was the longing that I had

To see my mother."

"And so thou shalt," Napoleon said,

"Ye've both my favour fairly won ;

A noble mother must have bred

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Our sailor oft could scantly shift

To find a dinner plain and hearty :

But never changed the coin and gift

Of Bonaparte.

64

T. CAMPBELL.

1 Argo, ship: after the name of Argo, given by the Greeks to their first ship.

HOW KING HENRY THE FIRST'S

CHILDREN WERE DROWNED

THEY CAME FROM FRANCE.

AFTER our royal king

Had foil'd his foes in France,

And spent the pleasant spring

His honour to advance;

Into fair England he return'd
With fame and victory ;

That time the subjects of this land
Received him joyfully.

But at his home return

His children left he still

In France, for to sojourn

To purchase learned skill:

Duke William, with his brother dear,
Lord Richard was his name,

Which was the earl of Chester then,

And thirsted after fame ;

The king's fair daughter eke,

The lady Mary bright,
With divers noble peers,

And many a hardy knight:

All these were left together there

In pleasures and delight,

When that our king to England came,
After the bloody fight.

AS

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