As she stood at her door in the morning, The hunter below, riding by, Cried out to his comrades, “we’re early! For look, there’s a star in the sky!” At the chapel, when good men were praying That angels of God would appear, Every heart turned to her, lowly kneeling, And felt that an angel was near. Thus radiant and pure in her presence, A blessing she moved, day by day, Till a proud lord beheld her, and loved her, And lured her forever away. He bore this bright bird of the mountain, Watched over and shielded the best, From the home of her youth and her kindred, Away to his own haughty nest. And lo! the grim idols in waiting Beset her for worship, and won; And the light of her beautiful childhood Went down like the swift-fading sun. And sudden as rises the black cloud, When tempests the thunder-gods start, Strange wishes encircled her bosom, And Pride swept the halls of her heart. And once, when o’ermastered by anger, Her golden-haired boy sought her side, In her fury she smote down her first born, And he fell like a lily and died. There were tears, burning tears, to recall him, And anguish that scorches the brain, But the harp-strings of life never answered The touch that would tune them again! She sleeps in a dark mausoleum, And ages have rolled o’er her head, But her name is remembered in Tyrol As when she was laid with the dead. And to-day, as the traveler sits weary, And drinks from the rude fountain-bowl, They tell the sad story, and whisper The warning that speaks to your soul. * * * * * FOR’ARD AND AFT; OR THE CAPTAIN’S SON AND THE SAILOR BOY. A SEA STORY. BY S. A. GODMAN. CHAPTER I. Fortune, the great commandress of the world, Hath divers ways to enrich her followers: To some, she honor gives without deserving; To other some, deserving without honor; Some wit—some wealth—and some wit without wealth; Some, wealth without wit—some, nor wit nor wealth. Chapman. “Rouse up, rouse up, my hearty! Bear a hand and be lively for that little devil-skin abaft, has been hailing for you this five minutes.”