ansient hum
Swung past me by the bee--the low meek burst
Of bubbles, as the trout leaps up to seize
The skipping spider--the light lashing sound
Of cattle, mid-leg in the shady pool,
Whisking the flies away--the ceaseless chirp
Of crickets, and the tree-frog's quavering note.

Now, from the shadow where I lie concealed,
I see the birds, late banished by my form,
Appearing once more in their usual haunts
Along the stream; the silver-breasted snipe
Twitters and seesaws on the pebbly spots
Bare in the channel--the brown swallow dips
Its wings, swift darting round on every side;
And from yon nook of clustered water-plants,
The wood-duck, slaking its rich purple neck,
Skims out, displaying through the liquid glass
Its yellow feet, as if upborne in air.

Musing upon my couch, this lovely stream
I liken to the truly good man's life,
Amid the heat of passions, and the glare
Of wordly objects, flowing pure and bright,
Shunning the gaze, yet showing where it glides
By its green blessings; cheered by happy thoughts,
Contentment, and the peace that comes from Heaven.

THE ALCHEMIST'S DAUGHTER.

A DRAMATIC SKETCH.

BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

GIACOMO, _the Alchemist_,

BERNARDO, _his son-in-law_,

ROSALIA, _his daughter, and Bernardo's wife,_

LORENZO, _his servant_.

SCENE I. FERRARA.

_The interior of Giacomo's house. Giacomo and Lorenzo discovered
together. Time, a little before daybreak._

_Gia._ Art sure of this?

_Lor._ Ay, signor, very sure.
'Tis but a moment since I saw the thing--
Bernardo, who last night was sworn thy son,
Hath made a villainous barter of thine honor.
Thou may'st rely the duke is where I said.

_Gia._ If so--no matter--give me here the light.

[_Exit Giacomo._

_Lor._ (_Alone._) Oh, what a night! It must be all a dream!
For twenty years, since that I wore a beard,
I've served my melancholy master here,
And never until now saw such a night!
A wedding in this silent house, forsooth,--
A festival! The very walls in mute
Amazement stared through the unnatural light!
And poor Rosalia, bless her tender heart,
Looked like her mother's sainted ghost! Ah me,
Her mother died long years ago, and took
One half the blessed sunshine from our house--
The other half was married off last night.
My master, solemn soul, he walked the halls
As if in search of something which was lost;
The groom, I liked no