hip only thee,
Oh be my sins forgiven!"

THE MANIAC OF VICTORY.

But here comes one, that seems to out-rejoice
All the rejoicing tribe! wild is her eye,
And frantic is her air, and fanciful
Her sable suit; and round, she rapid rolls
Her greedy eyes upon the spangled street.
And drinks with greedy gaze upon the sparkling scene!
"And see!" she cries how they have graced the hour
That gave _him_ to his grave! hail lovely lamps,
In honor of that hour a grateful land
Hath hung aloft! and sure he well deserves
The tributary splendor--for he fought
Their battles well--ah! he was valor's self--
Fierce was the look with which he faced the foe
But on his Harriet, when my hero bent it,
'Twas so benign! and beautiful he was--
And he was young; too young in years, to die!
'Twas but a little while his wing had thrown
Its guardian shadow o'er me--but 'tis gone--
Fall'n is my shield, yet see now if I weep.
A British warrior's widow should not weep--
Her hero sleeps in honor's fragrant bed--
So they all tell me, and I have nobly learned
Their gallant lesson--all my tears are gone--
Bright glory's beam has dried them every drop
No,--No,--I scorn to weep--high is mine heart!

Hot are mine eyes! there's no weak water there!
'Tis time I should have joyed--what mother would not?
To have shown him that sweet babe o'er which he wept
When last he kissed it--yes he did--he wept;
My warrior wept!--as the weak woman's tears
From off this cheek, where now I none can feel,
He kissed away--he wet it with his own;
Oh! yes 'twould--'twould have been sweet to have shown him
How his dear lovely boy had: grown, since he
Beheld it cradled, and to have bid it call him
By the sweet name that I had taught it utter
In softest tones, while he was thunder hearing,
And thunder hurling round him--for his hand
Would not be idle amid deeds of glory;
Yes _glory--glory--glory_ is the word--
See how it glitters all along the street!--
And then she laughs, and wildly leaps along
With tresses all untied. Fair wretch--adieu:
In mercy--heaven thy shattered peace repair.

--FAWCETT.

"GOD DOETH ALL THINGS WELL."

I remember how I loved her, as a little guileless child;
I saw her in the cradle, as she looked on me, and smiled.
My cup of happiness was full; my joy, no words can tell,
And I bless the Glorious Giver, "who doeth all things well