,
"I'm weary of this lonely life;
In Mabel see my chosen wife!

"She greets you kindly, one and all:
The past is past, and all offence
Falls harmless from her innocence.
Henceforth she stands no more alone;
You know what Esek Harden is;--
He brooks no wrong to him or his."

Now let the merriest tales be told,
And let the sweetest songs be sung,
That ever made the old heart young!
For now the lost has found a home;
And a lone hearth shall brighter burn,
As all the household joys return!

Oh, pleasantly the harvest moon,
Between the shadow of the mows,
Looked on them through the great elm-boughs!
On Mabel's curls of golden hair,
On Esek's shaggy strength it fell;
And the wind whispered, "It is well!"

_John G. Whittier._

David's Lament for Absalom

King David's limbs were weary. He had fled
From far Jerusalem; and now he stood
With his faint people for a little rest
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow
To its refreshing breath; for he had worn
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt
That he could see his people until now.

They gathered round him on the fresh green bank
And spoke their kindly words, and as the sun
Rose up in heaven he knelt among them there,
And bowed his head upon his hands to pray.
Oh! when the heart is full--where bitter thoughts
Come crowding thickly up for utterance,
And the poor common words of courtesy,--
Are such a mockery--how much
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer!
He prayed for Israel--and his voice went up
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those
Whose love had been his shield--and his deep tones
Grew tremulous. But, oh! for Absalom,
For his estranged, misguided Absalom--
The proud, bright being who had burst away
In all his princely beauty to defy
The heart that cherished him--for him he prayed,
In agony that would not be controll'd,
Strong supplication, and forgave him there
Before his God for his deep sinfulness.

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath
Was straightened for the grave, and as the folds
Sank to their still proportions, they betrayed
The matchless symmetry of Absalom,
The mighty Joab stood beside the bier
And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly,
As if he feared the slumberer might stir.
A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade
As if a trumpet rang, but the bent form
Of David entered; and he gave command
In a low tone to his few fo