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And that bird is called the crossbill;

Covered all with blood so clear,
In the groves of pine it singeth
Songs, like legends, strange to hear.

VII.-PRESS ON!
ON ! there's no

such word as fail'!
Press nobly on' ! the goal is near';
Ascend the mountain' ! breast the gale'!

Look upward', ONWARD'; never fear!
Why shouldst thou faint'? Heaven smiles above',

Though storm and vapor intervene';
That sun shines on', whose name is Love',

Serenely o'er life's shadowed scene!

PRESS

Press on' ! surmount the rocky steeps';

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch';
He fails alone who feebly creeps';

He wins who dares the hero's march.
Be thou a hero'! let thy might

Tramp on eternal snows its way,
And, through the ebon walls of night',

Hew down a passage unto day'.

Press on ! if once or twice thy feet

Slip back and stumble', harder try':
From him who never dreads to meet

Danger and death', they're sure to fly!
To coward ranks the bullet speeds;

While', on their breasts who never quail',
Gleams', guardian of chivalric deeds',

Bright courage', like a coat of mail'.

Press on' ! if Fortune play thee false

To day', to-morrow she'll be true':
Whom now she sinks' she now exalts',

Taking old gifts', and granting new.

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Under his spurning feet the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
And the landscape flowed away behind,
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed like a bark fed with furnace-ire
Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire ;
But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire.
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

The first that the General saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
What was done—what to do—a glance told him both,
And striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dashed down the lines 'mid a storm of hurrahs,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray,
By the ffash of his eye and his nostril's play
He seemed to the whole great army to say :

“I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester town to save the day!”

Hurrah! hurrah ! for Sheridan !
Hurrah! hurrah! for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky-
The American soldier's temple of fame-
There with the glorious General's name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:
“Here is the steed that saved the day
By carrying Sheridan into the fight
From Winchester, twenty miles away !"

IX-THE SLAVE'S PETITION,

MRS. NORTON,
IT
T was an aged man, who stood beside the blue Atlantic sea ;

They cast his fetters by the flood, and hailed the time-worn captive free; From his indignant eye there flashed a gleam his better nature gave, And while his tyrants shrank abashed, thus spoke the spirit-stricken Slave : “Bring back the chain, whose weight so long these tortured limbs have vainly borne ; The word of freedom from your tongue, my weary ear rejects with scorn! 'Tis true, there was—there was a time, I sighed, I panted to be free,

I And, pining for my sunny clime, bowed down my stubborn knee. “Then I have stretched my yearning arms, and shook in wrath my galling chain ;Then, when the magic words had charms, I groaned for Liberty, in vain ! That freedom ye at length bestow, and bid me bless my envied fate : Ye tell me I am free to go—where ?--I am desolate ! “The boundless hope—the spring of joy, felt when the spirit's strength is young : Which slavery only can alloy,—the mockeries to which I clung ; The eyes, whose fond and sunny ray made life's dull lamp less dimly burn, The tones I pined for day by day, can ye bid them return?

“Bring back the chain !—its clanking sound hath now a power beyond your own ; it brings young visions smiling round, too fondly loved—to early flown! It brings me days when these dim eyes gazed o'er the wild and swelling sea, Counting how many suns must rise ere one might hail me free !

X.—THE CHRISTIAN MAIDEN AND THE LION.

FRANCIS A. DURIVAGE.

“GN

IVE the Christians to the lions!" was the savage Roman'scry.

And the vestal virgins added their voices shrill and high ;
And the Cæsar gave the order, “Loose the lions from their den !
For Rome must have a spectacle worthy of gods and men."

Forth to the broad arena a little band was led,
But words forbear to utter how the sinless blood was shed.
No sigh the victims proffered, but now and then a prayer
From lips of age and lips of youth rose upward on the air ;
And the savage Cæsar muttered, “By Hercules ! I swear,
Braver than gladiators these dogs of Christians are."

Then a lictor bending slavishly, saluting with his axe,
Said “Mighty Imperator! the sport one feature lacks :
We have an Afric lion, savage, and great of limb,
Fasting since yester-eve; is the Grecian maid for him ?”

The Emperor assented. With a frantic roar and bound,
The monster, bursting from his den, gazed terribly around.
And toward him moved a maiden, slowly, but yet serene ;
“By Venus !” cried the Emperor, "she walketh like a queen.”'

Unconscious of the myriad eyes she crossed the blood-soaked sand,
Till face to face the maid and beast in opposition stand ;
The daughter of Athene, in white arrayed, and fair,
Gazed on the monster's lowered brow, and breathed a silent prayer.
Then forth she drew a crucifix and held it high in air.

Lo, and behold! a miracle ! the lion's fury filed,
And at the Christian maiden's feet he laid his lordly head;
While as she fearlessly caressed, he slowly rose, and then,
With one soft, backward look at her, retreated to his den.
One shout rose from the multitude, tossed like a stormy sea :
“The Gods have so decreed it; let the Grecian maid go free !''

Within the catacombs that night a saint with snowy hair
Folded upon his aged breast his daughter young and fair;
And the gathered brethren lift a chant of praise and prayer ;
From the monster of the desert, from the heathen fierce and wild,
God has restored to love and life his sinless, trusting child.

XI.-KEEPING HIS WORD.

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NLY a penny a box,” he said ;

But the gentleman turned away his head,
As if he shrank from the squalid sight
Of the boy who stood in the falling light.

“Oh sir !” he stammered, “you cannot know”!
(And he brushed from his matches the flakes of snow,
That the sudden tear might have chance to fall.)
“Or I think-I think you would take them all.

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“And now it is nine by the clock," he said,
"Time that my darlings were all a-bed ;
Kiss me “good night,' and each be sure,
When you're saying your prayers, remember the poor."

Just then came a message —"A boy at the door,''.
But ere it was uttered he stood on the floor
Half breathless, bewildered, and ragged and strange;
6 ľmn Rih'-- Mike's brother-1'7" Trought you the change.

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