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“O lads, dear lads, be silent,
Do not my pain increase,
Translated by Mrs. ROBINSON,
“ Sisters! I have seen this night
When they are gladly innocent;
And sometimes beneath the leafy tent,
Our overshadowing sycamore,
We see her dancing in a ring,
And hear the blessed creature sing
A creature full of gentleness,
Rejoicing in our happiness.'
Then pluck'd I a wreath with many a gem
And through the wicket, with a glide
I slipped, and sat me down beside
The youngest of those infants fair,
And wreath'd the blossoms in her hair.
Who placed these flowers on William's head?
The little wondering sister said,
A wreath not half so bright and gay,
I skimmed away, and with delight
Once more I dropp'd on earth below
FAIRIES IN THE HIGHLANDS.
FROM THE "CULPRIT FAY."
The moon looks down on old Cro'nest,
She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
Like starry twinkles that momently break Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.
The stars are on the moving stream,
And fling, as its ripples gently flow,
In an eel-like, spiral line below;
The bat in the shelvy rock is hid,
Of the gauze-winged katydid;
Who moans unseen and ceaseless sings,
Till morning spreads her rosy wings, And earth and sky in her glances glow.
'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell :
('Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell) -
* Midnight comes, and all is well ! Hither, hither, wing your way!
"Tis the dawn of the fairy day.”
They come from beds of lichen green,
Some on the backs of beetles fly,
Where they swung in their cobweb-hammocks high, And rock'd about in the evening breeze ;
Some from the hum-bird's downy nestThey had driven him out by elfin power,
And, pillow'd on plumes of his rainbow breast, Had slumber'd there till the charmed hour;
Some had lain in the scoop of the rock, With glittering ising-stars inlaid ;
And some had opend the four-o'clock,
And stole within its purple shade,
And now they throng the moonlight glade. Above-below-on every side,
Their little minim forms array'd In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride!
PHERE is beauty in the rolling clouds, and placid shingle bench,
snows There is beauty in the rounded woods dank with heavy foliage, In laughing fields and dented hills, the valley and its lake; There is beauty in the gullies, beauty on the cliffs, beauty in sun and
shade, In rocks and rivers, seas and plains—the earth is drowned in beauty ! Beauty coileth with the water-snake, and is cradled in the shrew-mouse's
nest; She flitteth out with evening bats, and the soft mole hid her in his
tunnel; The limpet is encamped upon the shore, and beauty not a stranger to
his tent; The silvery dace and golden carp thread the rushes with her. She saileth into clouds with an eagle, she fluttereth into tulips with a
huiming-bird; The pasturing kine are of her company, and she prowleth with the leopard in his jungle.
MARTIN F. TUPPER.