PLAYTIME WITH THE POETS. I CASA BIANCA. (A TRUE STORY.) The boy stood on the burning deck Yet beautiful and bright he stood, A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames rolled on-he would not go That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. B Say, father, say, If yet my task is done!" He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, may yet be gone! "If I And "- but the booming shots replied, Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapped the ship in splendour wild; They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky. There came a blast of thunder-sound The boy-oh! where was he? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea ! — With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, F. HEMANS. II THE FLIGHT OF XERXES. I saw him on the battle-eve, When like a king he bore him; Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave, And prouder chiefs before him: The warrior and the warrior's deeds, The morrow and the morrow's meeds - No daunting thoughts came o'er him; On earth; and saw from east to west His bannered millions meet; While rock and glen, and cave and coast, He heard the imperial echoes ring- I saw him next alone; nor camp He who with Heaven contended While wave and wind swept ruthless on, Must all thy fury dare;— Thy glorious revenge was this, Thy trophy, deathless Salamis ! JEWSBURY. III CHARADE. Morning is beaming o'er brake and bower; |