The death of Buondlemonte added virulence to the wars of the Guelphs and Ghibellines; and many generations passed away before the families of Amedi and Donati became reconciled. * * * * * A SUNBEAM. BY ALBERT M. NOYES. A SUNBEAM flashed from its azure throne, O’er the bright and the beautiful earth to roam; And it left a plume from its glist’ning wings Where’er it traced its wanderings. It tipped the bough of an old oak tree With its joyous ray, and in their glee A myriad host that were slumb’ring there Came glancing forth in the morning air. Then off like a flash it sped away, And next it touched with a diamond ray A lofty spire, as it rose upon high, Till it looked like a star in an azure sky. Again it flew, and this joyous beam Flashed o’er the breast of a rippling stream; And a bridge of trembling light it gave To the sparkling crests of the dimpled wave. I mused awhile—and lo! I heard The joyous song of a bright-winged bird; It had caught the flash of that morning ray As it sped to its bower of love away. And bathed in a flood of golden light It looked like a rainbow spirit bright, By an angel hand sent down to unfurl The banner of peace to a sinful world. And a thousand voices rose on high, As its gliding form flew swiftly by; Each bright and beautiful thing of earth Awoke to hail its heavenly birth. Sweet beam, said I, oh! how I’d love, Like thee, the bright green earth to rove; To shine o’er the hearts of pale despair And kindle a glow of rapture there. Just then, a darkling cloud flew by, And shadowed the face of the azure sky; I looked for this beautiful child of the dawn But its glory had faded, its brightness had gone! And I thought how much like Life did seem The fate of this bright yet transient beam; In glory it rose with the morn’s first breath, At eve it was shadowed in darkness and death. * * * * * LONG AGO. LONG ago a blue-eyed cherub In my arms Softly lay and sweetly smiled— Spotless, holy, undefiled— And my troubled heart beguiled With its charms. Long ago, on angel’s pinion, To my breast Came a gentle, timid dove— Stole the treasure of my love— Upward soared, no more to rove From its nest. Long ago my seraph maiden Took her flight From a dreary, darkling world— She her radiant wings unfurled, And the heavenly gates of pearl Shut my sight. Long ago the angel reaper Cruel sore Gave my heart its keenest blow, Made my tears of anguish flow, Bid me onward weeping go— Evermore.