I have a vague remembrance Of a story, that is told In some ancient Spanish legend Or chronicle of old. It was when brave King Sanchez

“As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys hi… Though she draws him, yet she foll… Useless each without the other!”

The guests were loud, the ale was… King Olaf feasted late and long; The hoary Scalds together sang; O’erhead the smoky rafters rang. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsa…

Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath,… A volume of the Law, in which it… ‘No man shall look upon my face an… And as he read, he prayed that Go… His faithful servant grace with mo…

Night. PRINCE HENRY _wandering alone… _Prince Henry._ Still is the nigh… Has died away from the empty stree… And like an artisan, bending down

With favoring winds, o’er sunlit s… We sailed for the Hesperides, The land where golden apples grow; But that, ah! that was long ago. How far, since then, the ocean str…

As the dim twilight shrouds The mountain’s purple crest, And Summer’s white and folded clo… Are glowing in the west, Loud shouts come up the rocky dell…

In the old churchyard of his nativ… And in the ancestral tomb beside t… We laid him in the sleep that come… And left him to his rest and his r… The snow was falling, as if Heave…

On St. Bavon’s tower, commanding Half of Flanders, his domain, Charles the Emperor once was stan… While beneath him on the landing Stood Duke Alva and his train.

IN that delightful land, which is… Guarding in sylvan shades the name… Stands on the banks of its beautif… There all the air is balm, and the… And the streets still re-echo the…

We sat within the farm—house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea—breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port,

From the outskirts of the town Where of old the mile-stone stood, Now a stranger, looking down I behold the shadowy crown Of the dark and haunted wood.

‘Now that is after my own heart,’ The Poet cried; 'one understands Your swarthy hero Scanderbeg, Gauntlet on hand and boot on leg, And skilled in every warlike art,

Garlands upon his grave And flowers upon his hearse, And to the tender heart and brave The tribute of this verse. His was the troubled life,

A GADARENE. He hath escaped, hath plucked his… And broken his fetters; always nig… Is in the mountains here, and in t… Crying aloud, and cutting himself…