Cheered by the Gospel's genial ray, Death's hand shall lightly on us press: We'll part, but only for a day,

My own, my winsome Bess.

THE PIRATE.

I.

"Quick, hoist the sails, my merry, merry men,
The breeze blows fresh and fair,
And spread the red flag to the gale,"
Quoth Hildebrand Saint Clair."

II.

"For yonder is a gallant ship,
Full stately doth she ride;

Before the sun his course hath run
I trow she'll doff her pride."

III.

The pirate's bark with dart-like prow

Cut swift the curling wave;

"Now yield thee," cried proud Hildebrand"Or fill an ocean grave.”.

IV.

Then up and spake a belted knight,

An angry man was he,

"We'll try our might, this day in fight,

Before I yield to thee."

V.

They fought with bow, and spear I trow, Six hours upon the main,

Till the knight and all his trusty crew

Were by the pirate slain.

VI.

Saint Clair he raised the dead man up

To cast him in the sea,

The corslet from his breast he took,

The plumed casque from his bree.

VII.

He laid him on the blood-red deck,
And washed away the gore;

His locks, black as the raven's wing,
His ivory brow hung o'er.

VIII.

Then the pirate screamed a terrible scream,

When he saw what he had done,

It was his son from Palestine,

His only, darling son.

THE TYROLESE WANDERER'S RETURN.

I.

Long, long, sweet native vale have I

A stranger been to peace and thee;
All hail ye proud cliffs towering high,

All hail each well-known crag and tree.
I've wandered 'mid the groves of France,
I've trode Italia's classic strand,

But aye my pensive eye did glance
Towards mine own-my native land.

II.

See! yonder is the pine-tree dell,

Where oft enraptured I have strayed,
When calmly bright the moonbeams fell,

With thee, my blue-eyed Tyrol maid.