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النشر الإلكتروني

POETRY.

THE LESSON DREAM.

Might to me be given,

Might become my bride, Might be sent to bless me

Clinging to my side.

BY W. WALLACE DAVIS.

“GOD MUST BE MERCIFUL TO KINGS."

(" Last Days of the Emperor Alexander," by Dumas.)

BY M. 1. FORTUXE.

A NATION Weeps-he hoeds them not

The monarch of the Russias wide Has laid him down to die amid

The emblems of his regal pride.

WHEN the shades were coming

Over vale and hill; When the busy humming

of the world was still, And upon the wood-side

Sang the whippoorwill; When the stars were peeping

Peeping clear and bright, Like lovers' eyes when keeping

Vigils through the night,
Then my closing eyelids

Somnus did invite.
In my sleep, I pondered

On thy love for me;
In my dreams, I wandered

Over land and seaWandered in my dreams, love,

Hand in hand with thee Wandered where the posies

Shed an odor rare,
Where myrtle-bloom and roses

Scented sweet the air,
And fairy notes were pealing

From the songsters there.

Rich velvets of imperial hue

Fall round his couch in many a fold, And kiogly splendor all is there,

In brilliant tints and burnished gold. But what avail the gorgeous rooms,

Or fringing gold that decks his bed, When he who owns them all must soon

Commingle with the mould'ring dead ? Or what avails, though thousands weep,

The hour that calls him from his throne? They cannot hold him from the grasp

Of Death, now calling for his own. But to the humble, lowly priest,

Abi list the words he uttered then: “God must be merciful to kings

They need it more than other men." Yes, here is truth! the poorest one

Who toils amid the laboring band Dreams not the temptings that assail

The monarch with a sceptred hand.

The sleepless nights, the weary days,

The thousand fears a sceptre brings, Oh! well the Emperor might say,

“ God must be merciful to kings!"

Soon thy form grew lighter,

Wings thy shoulders bore;
Then thy eyes grew brighter,

Lighter than before,
And a smile serapbic

All the features wore;
Thy voice grew softer, sweeter,

And its music broke,
In rhapsody of metre,

In accents that bespoke
All thy heart's affection-

All my love awoke.
Then this lesson learned I-

(Thou didst it impart)“Man's bliss is only earned by

Woman's gentler heart,
And incomplete bis destiny

When she shapes no part.
She has power given,

Power over strife,
Power sent from Heaven

To harmonize this life:
God's best gifts to man are

Mother, sister, wife!
Waking soon, and thinking

of this shadowy theme,
Straight I went to linking

Fact to fancy's gleam:
I chose to shape my destiny

The partner of my drcam,
And I prayed of Ileaven

That this chosen guide

DISTRUST.-A SONNET.

BY MARY G. WELLS.

Why wilt thou wrong, with jealous doubts and fears,

The heart that is so truly all thine own?
Why cause me shed those wild and burning tears

That ever flow at thy reproachful tone ?
An orphan lone, thou ’rt all my soul holds dear:

Hast Thou a pang that is not felt by me?
Have I a pleasure when Thou art not near?

I know no joy that is not shared with thee. Dost judge me by thyself? Art thou grown cold,

And thus would grieve my trustful love away! If so-ah! let the tale be quickly told;

My haughty spirit will not brook delay. My passion is too deep for words to prove: Thon cease to doubt me, or I cease to love!

568

Oh! wherefore doth she revel thus 'mid glowing scenes of

BALLAD.

yore?

BY J. E. CARNES.

DARELY fatal, 0 Havana!

Was thy green and fertile shore; Sadly shall thy name's sweet music

Seem unto us evermore.

In one short moment she will wake to weep-and dream

no more! The present brings no blissful hours-around it all is dimWhile echo syllables the notes of sorrow's mournful hymn.

Gallant forms were grouped upon thee,

Victims of deceptive wile,
Doomed to death, yet on each visage

Shone the hero's scornful smile.

Earth was gorgeous to their vision,

Rich her summer robe was wrought And from all thy groves of orange

Bland perfumes thy breezes brought.

Peace, peace to thee, fair slumberer! From fickle love

and grief, Within sleep's pure and blest embrace thou fain wouldst

find relief; Her dewy breath with lulling power is wafted o'er thee now, And with her lips she presseth still thy pale and anxious

brow. Alas! not all her winning charms can ease thy yearning

heart; For see! beneath those folded lids the quiv'ring teardrops

start; Life's masquerade hath wearied thee-thy bosom beaveth

high, And from the source of thrilling thought ascends a trou

bled sigh. Thou’rt parting with the spirit-strains which gave thy

visions birth, And once again thy soaring mind must captive bend to

earth.

Castle, tower, and fragrant garden

Lay in summer's brightest hue, And the bending heaven above them

Seemed to wear its calmest blue.

Spread before them smiled the ocean,

Chainless in his giant pride, And the hearts within their bosoms

Were as chainless as his tide.

Sadly gazed their thought beyond it,

And each lid repressed a tear O'er the sudden fate that blasted

Hopes of many a blissful year.

One last look at earth's green vesture,

And at ocean's boundless flood, Ere thy altars, dark Deception,

Are besprinkled with their blood. One last dream of friends and kindred,

And of graves beyond the sea, Beneath the flag whose starry splendor

Lights the pathway of the free. Stood they there in moveless courage,

Heroes of Spartanic mould; Rang the death-shots, and the victims

In the dust together rolled! Darkly fatal, o Havana!

Was thy green and fertile shore; Sadly shall thy name's sweet music

Secm unto us evermore!

Ah! child of clay, this world for thee will yield no tranquil

joy; Its treasures rare, its wealth of bliss, are mixed with base

alloy! And Mem'ry, with deep anguish fraught, will darken every

hour, While Passion's féll and withering blight will fade Hope's

budding flower. I would that I might win for thee unbroken, calm repose, Or, by some magic, deck thy path with colors of the rose! Though vain the wish–I yet may breathe affection's fer

vent prayer, That in the healing balm of Icaven thy soul may largely

share. And, when thou leav'st this earthly bourn, there seek thy

rest, poor dove, And fold thy weary pinions in a home of peace and love:

EROS.

BI R. T. CONRAD

THE SLEEPER WHO IS DREAMING.

YOUNG holy Love! It riseth o'er the heart,

Like morn's flushed glory o'er a vernal sky; And from its light all things profane depart,

Leaving thoughts pure and aspirations highThe ballowing effluence of Divinity!

Its heart-founts, clear as rills in Eden bowers, Ruffled alone by joy's low, quivering sigh,

Wake, as they leave their paradise of flowers, Wierd melodies, else mute, in this wild world of ours.

Inscribed to Oliver Oakwood.

BY MRS. A. F. LAW.

BEND softly o'er the sleeper, for she dreameth of the past, And, 'neath its spells of cloudless joy, her fevered pulse

bounds fast! Bend softly! From her parted lips unconscious murmurs

steal, And these low whispers, gently breathed, time's secrets now

reveal. With tuneful voice she blends their names the faithless

and the true Uniting close the severed wreath which love once round them threw.

VOL. XLV.--49

Each other's, and all God's! The sacred Fow

Blends souls, like meeting streams or mingling rays; And lapsing life glides by with music's flow,

Till age, like moonlight, silvers o'er their days. God on their holy home His blessing laya:

And when the bow that o'er their youth was bent, The mingled glory of their souls, decays,

Its hues are with immortal radiance blent; They melt--but 'uis in light: Heaven claims the love

it lent!

TO HER WHO UNDERSTANDS IT.

BY ADALIZA CUTTER.

BELOVED one, at this quiet eve,

Ere sinks yon trembling star to rest, One little song for thee I'll weave,

Of love-thoughts glowing in my breast. I 'll open all this full, warm beart,

That thou its inmost shrine can see, With all its folded leaves apart,

Where nestle such sweet thoughts of thee.

Though scenes more fair, though friends more dear

Hereafter bless your earthly lot,
One boon I ask without one fear-

I ask thee to forget me not.
Oh, let me meet thy bark once more

If not upon life's changeful sea,
At least upon that blissful shore,

From storm and tempest ever frec. Yes, if I ever reach that land,

(Oh, heed my best, my holiest prayer,) Attended by some angel band,

Oh mcet me there-oh, meet me there!

I sit alone, and yet I seem

To see thee linger by my side, As in some pleasant, quiet dream

Spirits of loved ones round me glide. My hand is gently clasped in thine,

I listen to your loving tone; I feel your warm lips pressed to mine,

And fol that I am not alone.

At first I strove to keep my heart

From loving thee I knew too well That we had only met to part,

And that we soon must breathe farewell: I knew that on life's solemn main

Fate soon our little barks must sever, And that we might not meet again

For years—perchance no more forever.

A FAREWELL TO SUMMER.

BY ELSIE GREY. FAREWELL, bright Summer! Ay, I call thee bright, Though to my dull dark soul the word is strange; Let Hope soft breathe it, but not cold Despair. Farewell, I say; yet would I find some word Of deeper woe to speak my parting now With thee, 0 Summer, passing here away. Summer, thy last mild moon bath risen, and wased, And waned since that dread hour when in my soul Hope's last faint taper, dying long, expired. Summer, farewelll yet not for aye, for thou Wilt come again, and thy warm breath will pass O'er frozen trees and flowers, and they shall live. But to my dark, deal, icy heart thou canst Not come, nor thy soft breath shall kindle more That light of Hope forever now gone out.

I strove in vain. Go bid the bird

Beside its nest forbear to sing;
Go bid the flowers, by soft winds stirred,

Forget to blossom in the spring;
Go bid the bright stars cease to shine,

Like diamonds in the blue above-
As well as bid this heart of mine

Give up its blissful dream of love.

SONNET.—THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

BY JOHN 8. MOORE. FAREWELL now to the glories of the year!

The cloudiness of Winter cometh o'er us,

And nothing save the spring-tide will restore us An ardent sunbeam. All the leaves, grown sear, Drop deadly to the ground 'neath the cold glow

of a far-gleaming moon. The quiet stars,

Like peris gazing through a prison's bars,
Seem shivering as they cast regards below.
The music from the leaves, and from the grass,

Which filled the years upon a summery night,
Is now but all too mute. Ere long will pass

The vehement north-wind, conscious of his might, Over the dead-cold land, and on my glass

The fingers of the fresh brown Autumn's fate will write

SONNET.-IN MEMORY OP "AMELIA.

Oh, were it wise to shun the flowers

Because their beauty fades so soonTo wish there were no summer hours

Because it is not always June To turn away from the blue sky,

That shines so gloriously fair, Because, to dim the sun's bright eye,

Dark threatening clouds are sometimes there? No-ratber cull the flowers that bloom,

And wear them, though for one brief day; Their fragrance may dispel our gloom,

E'en when their beauty fades away. Thoughts of the calm blue summer skies,

The rich green leaf, the sweet wild-flower,
Will come to us when storms arise,

And cheer full many a wintry hour.
E'en thus will thought of thee, sweet friend,

Remain when thou art far away;
And when the shades of eve descend,

When cooling zephyrs gently play,
I'll sit beneath yon star's pale beams,

Or 'neath the soft light of the moon,
And yield myself to dreams, sweet dreams,

Of days that passed too soon—too soon.
And when beneath a southern sky,

'Mid birds and flowers your footsteps roam, Sometimes will not your spirit's eye

Turn to my cherished mountain home!

BY G. WALLINGFORD CLARKE,

Ye heavenly spirits who preside o'er song,

Ne'er will ye cease to grieve-for in your bowers

No more that voice shall ring, whose tuneful powers Thrilled with such ecstasy the list'ning throng. Yet, mourned enchantress of the lyre, as long

As thy loved stars illume, and dewy flowers

With fragrance fill the vales, soft falling showers Refresh the earth, and snow-clad mountains strong

Lift their pale pinnacles to pierce the skies, Thy lays shall live in all their native bloom, And as a household word thy name be known.

Oh! songstress of the soul, with tearful eyes, Whilst sounds in fancy's err thy harp's deep moan, I place this cypress wreath-this tribute on thy tomb!

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Materials.-A strip of French canvas, No. 14,522 inches wide; half an ounce each of five shades of green Berlin wool; 36 yards of straw beading; quarter of a yard of wide green glacé silk, to match with one of the darker shades of wool; sarsnet to line the same; a piece of stout cardboard; 12 yard of fancy straw trimming an inch wide; and 12 yard of satin ribbon to match the silk.

two threads of the canvas, and work thus : 6 stitches taken across the straw in a straight line; consequently, across two upright threads of canvas, but not crossing any in the width ; miss 3 threads, 12 stitches, miss 5 threads, 4 stitches, miss th ads, 2 stitches, miss 9 threads, 2 stitches, miss 11 threads, 10 stitches, miss 3 threads, 6 stitches.

[In future rows, it will be understood that threads are missed, and that a signifies stitches.]

THESE baskets are at once among the prettiest and the most useful of the day. They are generally made of plain straw, instead of Berlin-work; but the latter has so elegant an appearance that we are sure our friends will think it well repays them for the little extra trouble.

It is to be understood that the lower part alone is done on canvas; the upper part is a bag of silk ; the joining of the two is concealed by a piece of wide fancy straw laid on.

Narrow canvas is to be used for the bags in preference to a strip of the same width cut from a broader piece, because the selvages add so much to the strength of the basket.

Work across the width, first from right to left and then from left to right, so that the straw beading need not be cut at the end of the rows.

The pattern contains 20 rows. Begin with the darkest shade, and change at the 5th, 9th, 13th, and 17th ; at the commencement of the next pattern (the 21st row), resume the darkest shade.

1st row. Hold one end of the straw beading over

2d.-Worked the reverse way. 4 s, miss 7, 6 s. miss 7, 8 s, miss 9, 4 s, miss 5, 4 s, miss 3, 8 s, miss 7, 4 s.

3d.—6 s, miss 3, 10 s, miss 3, 6 s, miss 3, 6 s, miss 7, 2 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 5, 12 s, miss 3, 6 s.

4th.-16 s, miss 7, 4 s, miss 7, 2 s, miss 3, 12 s, miss 3, 20 s.

5th.20 s, miss 3, 8 s, miss 3, 6 s, miss 9, 2 s, miss 9, 14 s.

6th.—6 s, miss 3, 10 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 11, 2s, miss 13, 4 s, miss 3, 10 s, miss 3, 6 s.

7th.-48, miss 7, 16 s, miss 9, 2 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 5,2 8, miss 5, 6 s, miss 7, 4 s.

8th.-6 s, miss 3, 8, s miss 11,6 s, miss 3,8 s, miss 7, 14 s, miss 3, 6 s.

9th.—20 s, miss 11, 2 s, miss 3, 28, miss 5, 6 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 5, 16 s.

10th.–14 s, miss 5, 10 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 3, 2s, miss 3, 6 s, 22 s.

11th.-6s, miss 10 s, miss 11, 2 s, miss 9, 2 s, miss 3, 4 s, miss 5, 12 s, miss 3, 6 s.

12th.- s, miss 7, 8 g, miss 3, 4 s, miss 5, 4 8, miss 9, 8 8, miss 7, 6 s, miss 7, 4 s.

13th.—6 s, miss 3, 12 s, miss 5, 2 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 7, 6 s, miss 3, 6 s, 10 s, miss 3, 6 s.

14th.—20 s, miss 3, 12 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 6, 48, miss 6, 16 s.

15th.–14 s, miss 9, 2 s, miss 9, 6 , miss 3, 8 8, miss 3, 20 s.

16th.—6 s, miss 3, 10 s, miss 3, 4 s, miss 13, 2 s, miss 11, 2 s, miss 3, 10 g, miss 3, 6 8.

17th.4 s, miss 7, 6 s, miss 5,2 8, miss 5,2 %, miss 3, 2 s, miss 3, 2 s, miss 9, 16 s, miss 7, 4 s.

18th.-6 s, miss 3, 14 8, miss 7, 8 s, miss 3, 6 s, miss 11, 8 s, miss 3, 6 s.

19th.—16 8, miss 5, 2 s, miss 3, 6 g, miss 5,2 8, miss 3, 2 s, miss 11, 20 s.

20th.-22 s, miss 5, 6 s, miss 3,2 8, miss 3, 2 s, miss 3, 10 s, miss 5, 14 s.

This completes one pattern, and must be repeated as often as desired for the size of the basket.

Cut out in cardboard an oval, pointed at both ends, about 12 to 14 inches long, and 31 to 5 wide. Cover this with silk on both sides, and sew the straw-work all round it,, having previously added a silk bag to the canvas. The cardboard should be sewed in very strongly, and the seam may be covered with straw beading.

The handle, which is made of the fancy straw, should be stiffened with a bit of wire ribbon, and firmly sewed on the centre of each side of the bas. ket. The fancy straw is also to be put round tho top of the canvas to conceal the joining of it with tho silk.

KNITTED ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS.

CONVOLVULUS.

the edge of the top of the flower as far as the first stripe, turn down both ends of the wire. Take a second piece, and sew it from the first to the second stripe, turn down the ends, and contrive the same for the third, fourth, and fifth stripes. Sew down all the ends of wire two by two, on the wrong side of the flower. Sew up the side left open. The right side of the knitting will be the inside of the flower. Cover the lower end of the flower with fine herring-bone stitches to form a small calyx; tie up five bits of yellow wool, not split, with a knot at the top of each ; fix them on a bit of wire to make the stamen, and place them in the centre of the flower, and cover the stem with green wool.

BUDS.

Four needles are required.

Tako some pale yellow split wool, and cast on six stitches on each of two needles, and three stitches on the third needle, knit two plain rounds.

3d round.-Knit one, make one, knit one, make one, knit two, make ono, knit one, make one, knit two, make one, knit one, make one, knit two, make one, knit one, make one, knit two, make one, knit one, make one, knit one, knit two, plain rounds.

6th.-Take a deeper shade of yellow; knit two, make one, knit one, make one, knit four, make one, knit one, make one, knit four, make one, knit one, make one, knit four, make one, knit one, make one, knit four, make one, knit one, make one, knit two, knit three plain rounds; take white wool and knit one more round.

11th.-Knit three, make one, knit one, make one, knit six, mako ono, knit one, make one, knit six, make one, knit one, make one, knit six, make one, knit one, make one, knit six, make one, knit one, make one, knit three, knit threo plain rounds with white, then take pale blue (half twist silk may be introduced with good effect), knit one moro plain round.

15th.-Knit four, make one, knit one, make one, knit eight, make one, knit one, make one, knit eight, make one, knit one, make one, knit eight, make one, knit one, make one, knit eight, make one, knit one, make one, knit four. Take a deeper shado of blue, knit three plain rounds. Take a still deeper shade, and knit two rounds. Cast off very loosely.

The flower thus finished will be found divided into five stripes, by the increase stitches. Take a piece of wire, and sew it as neatly as possible along

Cast on four stitches in pale groen wool. 1st row.-Purl. 2d.-Make one, knit one, repeat through the row. 3d.-Purl. 4th.-Knit plain. 5th.-Purl. 6th.-Make one, knit two, repeat through the

row.

7th.-Purl.

8th.— Use two threads of blue wool, together with two green, and knit the row, putting the wool twice round the needle. Gather all the stitches with a rug needle, then cut a small round of card, prick four holes in the centre, put two pieces of wire crosswise through the four holes, twist the wire tight under the card, and cover the little card with green or blue wool, as if winding it. Cover this with the knitted piece for the bud. Sew up the open side, gather together the stitches of the open part, and cover the stem with green wool.

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