She mounted, and she turned his head 16. Out-out into the darkness Faster and still more fast; 17. "Faster," she cries; "O faster!" "O God," she cries, "help Bregenz, 18. Shall not the roaring waters Their headlong gallop check? 19. She strives to pierce the blackness, How gallantly, how nobly, He struggles through the foam! And see, in the far distance Shine out the lights of home! 20. Up the steep banks he bears her, 21. Bregenz is saved! Ere daylight That marches on the land; Should endless fame be paid, The noble Tyrol maid. 22. Three hundred years are vanished, To do her honor still. And there, when Bregenz women Sit spinning in the shade, 23. And when to guard old Bregenz, MISS A. A. PROCTOR B 78. THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.-(FROM "LALLA ROOKH.") 66 They come-the Moslems come !"—he cries, Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. Near and more near its echoings Peal through the chasm. Oh! who that then 2. He read their thoughts-they were his own- Without one victim to our shades, One Moslem heart where, buried deep, The sabre from its toil may sleep? No-God of Iran's burning skies! MOORE "0 79. THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S MOTHER. COME! my mother, come away, across the sea-green water; O! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy daughter; O come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother, Who, prattling, climb thine aged knees, and call thy daughtermother. "O! come, and leave this land of death-this isle of desolation This speck upon the sun-bright face of God's sublime creation, Since now o'er all our fatal stars the most malign hath r ́sen, When Labor seeks the Poorhouse, and Innocence the Prison. "Tis true o'er all the sun-brown fields the husky wheat is bending; 'Tis true God's blessed hand at last a better time is sending; "Tis true the island's aged face looks happier and younger, But in the best of days we've known the sickness and the hunger. "When health breathed out in every breeze, too oft we've known the fever Too oft, my mother, have we felt the hand of the bereaver; Too well remember many a time the mournful task that brought him, When freshness fanned the Summer air, and cooled the glow of Autumn. "But then the trial, though severe, still testified our patience, We bowed with mingled hope and fear, to God's wise dispen sations; We felt the gloomiest time was both a promise and a warning, Just as the darkest hour of night is herald of the morning. "But now through all the black expanse no hopeful morning breaketh No bird of promise in our hearts the gladsome song awaketh; No far-off gleams of good light up the hills of expectationNaught but the gloom that might precede the world's annihilation. "So, mother, turn thine aged feet, and let our children lead 'em Down to the ship that wafts us soon to plenty and to freedom; Forgetting naught of all the past, yet all the past forgiving; Come, let us leave the dying land, and fly unto the living. 'They tell us, they who read and think of Ireland's ancient story How once its Emerald Flag flung out a Sunburst's fleeting glory; O! if that sun will pierce no more the dark clouds that efface it, Fly where the rising Stars of Heaven commingle to replace it. "So, come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water; |