"I'm hungry," then he said, "and gladly I brought him country wine and bread; The gray surtout was dripping sadly; He dried it by this fire. His head, He leaned against this wall, and slept-- While, as for me, I sat and wept. He waked and cried, 'Be of good cheer! I go to Paris, France to free, And better times, be sure, are near!' He went, and I have ever kept The cup he drank from--children, see! My greatest treasure!" "Show it me," "And me!"--"and me!" the listeners cry-- "Good mother, keep it carefully!" "Ah, it is safe! but where is he? Crowned by the pope, our father good, In a lone island of the sea The hero died. Long time we stood Firm in belief he was not dead, And some by sea, and some by land-- But all, that he was coming, said. And when, at length, all hope was o'er, Than I, were few that sorrowed more!" "Ah, mother, well we understand! Our blessings on you; we too weep, We will pray for you ere we sleep!" THE HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE, ON HER BIRTH-DAY. BY JOHN INMAN. Nay, ask me not, my dearest! why silent I remain-- Not often will my feelings speak in smooth and measured strain. The joy that fills my heart, in the love I bear to thee, Too deeply in that heart is shrined, by words expressed to be; And thousand thoughts of tenderness, that in my bosom throng, Are all too bright and blessed to be manacled in song. This is thy birth-day, dearest--the fairest of the year-- To many giving gladness, but to me of all most dear; The birth-day of my happiness, which sprang to life with thee, As hope springs in the captive's breast with the hour that sets him free. I hail its happy dawning, with a love like that which fills My heart for thee, my pure one, when thy kind voice in it thrills. I bless it and its memories, and the blessing which I give, Is fervent as the dying man's to him who bids him live-- But the joy I have in thee, dear love, speaks not in echoes loud, Nor will its tranquil flowing be revealed before a crowd. VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF COL. WOOD OF THE UNITED STATES' ARMY, WHO FELL AT THE SORTIE OF ERIE. BY THE LATE GEN. J. MORTON. What though on foeman's land he fell, No stone the sacred spot to tell, Yet where the noble Hudson's waves Its shores of lofty granite laves, The loved associates of his youth, Who knew his worth--his spotless truth, Have bade the marble column rise, To bid the world that worth to prize; To teach the youth like him aspire, And never-fading fame acquire; Like him on Glory's wings to rise, To reach, to pierce the azure skies. And oft the Patriot _there_ will sigh, And Sorrow oft cloud Beauty's eye, Whene'er fond memory brings again The Youth who sleeps on Erie's plain. LIFE'S GUIDING STAR. BY WILLIAM LEGGETT.