'Twas thy soul-wife, 'twas thy Psyche, one uplifted, radiant day, Thou didst call me;--how divinely on thy brow Love's glory lay! Thou my Cupid,--not the boy-god whom the Thespians did adore, But the man, so large, so noble, truer god than Venus bore. I thy Psyche;--yet what blackness in this thread of gold is wove! Thou canst never, never lead me, proud, before the throne of Jove! All the gods might toil to help thee through the longest summer day;-- Still would watch the fatal Sisters, spinning in the twilight gray; And their calm and silent faces, changeless looking through the gloom, From eternity, would answer, "Thou canst ne'er escape thy doom!" Couldst thou clasp me, couldst thou claim me, 'neath the soft Elysian skies, Then what music and what odor through their azure depths would rise! Roses all the Hours would scatter, every god would bring us joy, So, in perfect loving blended, bliss would never know alloy! O my heart! the vision changes; fades the soft celestial blue; Dies away the rapturous music, thrilling all my pulses through! Lone I sit within my chamber; storms are beating 'gainst the pane, And my tears are falling faster than the chill December rain;-- Yet, though I am doomed to linger, joyless, on this earthly shore, Thou art Cupid!--I am Psyche!--we are wedded evermore! DR. WICHERN AND HIS PUPILS. "Would you like to spend a day at Horn and visit the _Rauhe Haus?_" inquired my friend, Herr X., of me, one evening, as we sat on the bank of the Inner Alster, in the city of Hamburg. I had already visited most of the "lions" in and about Hamburg, and had found in Herr X. a most intelligent and obliging cicerone. So I said, "Yes," without hesitation, though knowing little more of the Rauhe Haus than that it was a reform school of some kind. "I will call for you in the morning," said my friend, as we parted for the night. The morning was clear and bright, and I had hardly despatched my breakfast when Herr X. appeared with his carriage. Entering it without delay, we were driven swiftly over the pavements, till we came to the old city-wall, now forming a fine drive, when my friend, turning to the coachman, said,-- "Go more slowly." "The scenery in this vicinity we Hamburgers think very beautiful," he continued, turning to me. To my eye, accustomed to our New England hills, it was much too flat to merit the appellation of beautiful, though Art had done what it could to improve upon Nature; so I assented to his encomiums upon the landscape, but, desirous of changing the subject, added,-- "This Rauhe Haus, where we are going, I know but little of; will you give me its history?"