the brutes to perish. What do they
But crop the grass and die? Ye have been taught
A nobler lesson--that within the clay,
Upon the minds high altar, burns a ray
Flashed from Divinity--and shall it shine
Fitful and feebly? Shall it die away,
Because, forsooth, no priest is at the shrine?
Go ye with learning's lamp and tend the fire divine.

Pore o'er the classic page, and turn again
The leaf of History--ye will not heed
The noisy revel and the shouts of men,
The jester and the mime, for ye can feed,
Deep, deep, on these; and if your bosoms bleed,
At tales of treachery and death they tell,
The land that gave you birth will never need
Tarpeian rock, that rock from which there fell
He who loved Rome and Rome's, yet loved himself too well.

And she, the traitress, who beneath the weight
Of Sabine shields and bracelets basely sank,
Stifled and dying, at the city-gate,
Lies buried there--and now the long weeds, dank
With baneful dews, bend o'er her, and the rank
Entangled grass, the timid lizard's home,
Covers the sepulchre--the wild flower shrank
To plant its roots in that polluted loam--
Pity that such a tomb should look o'er ruined Rome.

Rome! lovely in her ruins! Can they claim
Common humanity who never feel
The pulse beat higher at the very name,
The brain grow wild, and the rapt senses reel,
Drunken with happiness? O'er us should steal
Feelings too big for utt'rance--I should prize
Such joy above all earthly wealth and weal,
Nor barter it for love--when Beauty dies
Love spreads his silken wings. The happy are the wise.

HENRY S. HAGERT.

THE FANE-BUILDER.

BY EMMA C. EMBURY.

A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown,
A poet's memory thy most far renown. LAMENT OF TASSO.

In the olden time of the world there stood on the ocean-border a large
and flourishing city, whose winged ships brought daily the costly
merchandise of all nations to its overflowing store-houses. It was a
place of busy, bustling, turbulent life. Men were struggling fiercely
for wealth, and rank, and lofty name. The dawn of day saw them
striving each for his own separate and selfish schemes; the stars of
midnight looked down in mild rebuke upon the protracted la