HOPE, FAITH, CHARITY.

Have CHARITY!-for though thou'st faith

To make the hills remove,

Thou nothing art, if wanting this,

The Charity of love.

And though an angel's tongue were thine,
Whose voice none might surpass,

If Charity inspire thee not,

Thou art as sounding brass.'

Have CHARITY! that suffers long,
Is kind, and thinks no ill;
That grieveth for a brother's fault,
Yet loves that brother still.

FAITH, HOPE, and CHARITY!-of these

The last is greatest, best.

'Tis Heaven itself come down to dwell

Within the human breast.

41

SONG OF THE WINTRY WIND.

BY FREDERIC MELLEN.

*

Away!

6

We have outstaid the hour-mount we our clouds !

MANFRED

ADIEU adieu!' thus the storm spirit sang,
'Adieu to the southern sky;'

And the wintry wind that round him rang,
Caught up the unearthly minstrelsy.

Adieu! adieu! to its flood's bright gleams,

Its waving woodlands, its thousand streams. '

'Off! off!' said the spirit; like the whirlwind's rush His snow-wreathed car was gone;

And their cold white breath came down the night, As his startled steeds sped on.

Yet the night wind's dirge o'er the changing year, Fell slowly and sadly upon the ear.

SONG OF THE WINTRY WIND.

43

'Twas the song of woe,—of that wintry wind,

As the laughing streams ran by,
And lingered around the budding trees,
Once clothed in its own chaste livery.
Its tones were sad, as it sunk its wing,
And this was its simple offering :

Farewell to the sun-bright South;

For the Summer is hastening on ;

And the Spring flowers bright in their fragrant youth, Mourn not for the Winter gone.

'But when days have passed, and I come again,
Their forms shall have died away;

And mine must it be their cold shroud to twine,
From the snow curls that o'er them lay.

Farewell to the sun-bright South;

To its midnight dance and its song;

For each heart is out for the Summer breeze,
As it sports in its mirth along.

And the student hath lifted his pallid brow,
To list to its soothing strain;

But oft shall they sigh in the parching heat,
For the wintry wind again.

Farewell to the sun-bright South;

To the chime of its deep, deep sea; To its leaping streams, its solemn woods, For they all have a voice for me.

Farewell to its cheerful, its ancient halls,
Where oft in the days of old,

When the waning embers burnt low and dim,
And dark strange stories were told;

My hollow moans at the casement bars,
Stole in like a sound of dread;
And the startled ear in its lonely sigh,
Heard the voice of the sheeted dead.

'But the days are passed-the hearth is dim,

And the evening tale is done;

'Mid the green-wood now is the choral hymn,

As it smiles in the setting sun.

Farewell to the land of the South;

My pathway is far o'er the deep,

Where the boom of the rolling surge is heard, And the bones of the shipwrecked sleep.

SONG OF THE WINTRY WIND.

45

'I go to the land of mist and storm,

Where the iceberg looms o'er the swell, Afar from the sunlit mountains and streams; Sweet land of the South! farewell!

The song had ceased; and the Summer breeze,
Came whispering up the glen;

And the green leaves danced on the forest-trees,
As they welcomed its breath again.

And the cold rocks slept in the moonlight wan,

But the wintry wind and its song were gone.