Yes, surely here, where love awaits to cheer him,
Fond father, sisters sweet, death may not gain!
The dreaded tyrant shall not venture near him,

In that close circle charmed from doubt or pain.

And now, by Lake Lucern's pure azure waters,

Calm sojourns he, in hopeful peace of mind; He smiles to see them pass, the mountain's daughters, Each with that dear straw hat, which roses bind. He marks the sun in golden distance setting,

While loved Lucern gleams white on that green shore,

And, every fear and every care forgetting,

He drinks his own Swiss air, and lives once more.

Alas! alas-few weeks-ill signs recurring,
Rewake alarm; and up the heights speeds he

To Alpine dwelling, hope yet inly stirring
That there a slow revival gained may be.

Such the last chance for life or love! There, reader,
Was it my hap his pale, spare form to view :

That bright blue eye, too bright, for life quick pleader,
I still recall; I pitied-pity you?

Right sad it was, midst that fresh life of nature,
Eternal, undefiled, in fadeless youth,

To mark this sere and waning fellow-creature,
Scarce past life's boyhood,-piteous sight, in truth.
Methought those Autumn glories pass'd before him
Each breathing in its turn faint fond farewell;
Yea, even the happy skies, that brighten'd o'er him,
On him, I ween'd, their rays in pity fell.

Meseem'd, each zephyr free, the mountains roaming,
Sighed forth, "Ah, could I ease thy fatal pain !"
The noonday sunshine and the even gloaming

They mourn'd alike; mourn'd too the tinkling strain
From happy herds; the Alpine clarion, ringing,
Methought, had echoes mournful for his ear;
The gay, glad lark, in upper air soar'd singing,
"Poor boy! poor boy! thou may'st not linger here."

Oh, never, never, Autumn holier, brighter,

Charmed mortal senses !-Seem'd it then to me
As each thing strove to prove his heart's delighter
And buoy his soul to Immortality!

For him those eves of long and lingering beauty,
For him old Righi smiled in broad renown;
That mountain-world performed one sacred duty,
To bless its own true son, and, parting, crown.

With overflowing tenderness it granted

Its treasures all to soothe his last loved days: Surely, that world of light was Angel-haunted;

Thus, deem'd they, might his latest breath be praise !So proved it, trust we. Ere that year departed

He slept death's sleep: a faint, pale record mine;

But him the zephyrs wail'd, the merry-hearted,
And mourn'd above his grave the glad sunshine.

Nor void of sentient pity deem those glories
Of nature dear!-GoD's angels haply guide
And sway them. Mountain herdsmen tell you stories
Might move your wonder. Sceptic, do not chide!

Such young existence, slowly, sadly waning,

Midst such glad Switzer-world, man's tears might woo ;-
This record, friends! it fears not your disdaining,-
'Tis simple as yon mountain skies are blue.

ARCHER GURNEY.

PRAYER.

ONE night when all was dark and still around, my soul fled from that darkness into boundless space, and there I saw a wondrous sight. In this vision were countless beings, of all sizes and aspects, walking to and fro, running hither and thither, some excited, anxious, frightened, some dallying in listless idleness and indifference, and others calm, serene and earnest.

My attention was particularly attracted by observing that whilst many appeared to have wings, many more had none. When however I set myself earnestly to watch, I found that not any were wholly without, for every one had at least the mark where wings should be. These wings were most beautiful to behold, transparent as gossamer, glittering like sunset on burnished silver, radiant with dazzling hues; in some one colour seemed to predominate, in some another; in others, all blazed in fervid tints, then blended in one glorious unison. The most brilliant wings were always the largest, and they seemed continually to grow; and as they grew the body became smaller, till it seemed less cumbrous and less dark; for all these Beings were more or less dark; some were quite black, and these were they who at first I had thought possessed no wings. The fairest Beings with the brightest wings were always spreading them and soaring up into the sunshine; some rose almost beyond my sight and remained aloft for a long time, returning only for short periods, as if fearful of continuing on the earth; for though I thought earth so beautiful, I saw they could not long stay there without hurting their wings, because over it lay a moist, heavy air which soon damped them, and they became flimsy and unfit for flight. There were also thorns and briars in the paths which caught the wings and tore them, unless the greatest watchfulness were observed; and when once torn, they could not sustain themselves for any length of time. There were also many beautiful green spots, and shady glades full of gay, lovely flowers, and I wondered why the bright winged ones did not seek these pleasant resting places, but I soon observed that they who lingered there were in a piteous state: for all those enticing flowers were loaded with sticky gums and fine invisible thorns, which clogged every delicate fibre, and lacerated the wings fearfully, till they could be no more used. These then were they who only bore the mark of wings: how terrible was the thought, they could never rise again into the sunshine with those beauteous Ones.

Every moment that I watched I saw new wonders; the Beings were constantly changing, as some vanished, others came; these last were very small with tiny wings, which they knew not how to use, and it grieved me to observe how liable were these little ones to injure their wings in the damp fogs, or amongst the thorny bushes; but as they went on, if they had any to take care of them, to show them the best paths, and to teach them how to keep themselves from noisome vapours, their wings grew again. At length I became confused with watching these myriads, differing one from another in every degree of light and darkness, beauty and deformity; all moving, changing, departing; and then methought I would watch one from the beginning, and see what its end would be. Soon I was attracted by a fair little one, very fair, with small bright wings. It ran joyously along, here and there, and was soon among the beautiful flowers, but I saw to my grief and dismay that its wings stuck to the honey-dew as it passed, and soon became dark and clotted; and were then torn away piece by piece, until it had no wings remaining; but it cared not, it had never made use of its wings, and it seemed unconscious of its loss: I saw now as it ran along that its fair form became covered with dirt and slime, yet it rushed on heedless of stones and briars, and it seemed to glory in overleaping them; I heard it laugh at its wounds and scratches, and though I never took my eye from it, I could not discover when or why it had begun this wild career, nor what it was so eagerly pursuing. It darted forward with its head thrown proudly back, its bright eyes piercing the distance, its arms extended to seize some invisible object; thus it went on and on, until at last it came to the brink of a turbid river; it sprang unhesitatingly, it plunged, it sank, and I saw it no more: that once bright and beautiful one was gone.

Pondering and sad at heart I turned to seek another, and saw two little ones, fresh and bright; one was lying on a grassy bed, the other was playing around; they were watched by a bright-winged Being, to whom they both seemed to look with confidence and love, but one was eager and restless, always on the point of running off for some new pleasure; the other seemed to wish for nothing but to spread its tender little limbs on the soft dewy grass, and to trifle with the hare-bells and flowers that grew within its reach. Their Guardian seemed always to be checking the one and encouraging the other, teaching both to use their wings and rise above the earth; little by little they rose and their wings grew; but the two differed greatly: the one was constantly tearing and scratching its wings in the brambles because it would explore unknown paths, and search out short and new ways about the land; the other damped its wings by lying so much upon the ground, that when it sometimes spread them, and rose a little, following its beautiful Guide, it soon grew weary and would quickly descend and lie down

again; the heavy dew wetted its wings, and they clung flaccid and powerless to its body, and the colours became fainter and fainter, until they were all one pale cold grey.

The rover now went further, and I often feared it would leave its Guardian and return no more; but though its wings were sadly torn, the frame and sinews seemed strong; and when bewildered in labyrinths of dark paths, it would sometimes stretch them out with great energy, and rise up until it could see over the rocks and forests, and return to its former place, where its Guardian, who ever watched it with painful anxiety, welcomed it back with gentle reproaches and glad smiles, but alas ! it became bolder and stronger; it wandered farther and did not return again; it looked back with scorn and sought new places for itself, which it could leave whenever its wild will led it, without the reproach of those mild eyes, which, in spite of all resistance, seemed still to restrain it. It soared often and high, but I observed that its wings did not attain those matchless colours, but wore a dark lurid hue, and were torn and jagged. I watched it long, now here, now there, restless, uncertain, its body dark, its expression wilful, its movements fitful: at last, while pausing on a large sand-bank, it was caught by a passing whirlwind, and forced along against its will; it tried to catch hold of bushes and stones to stop itself, but growing only in the sand, they were too frail to check its impetuous course; then in wild despair I saw it struggle and try to use its wings, but the moment they were spread the wind rushed through them, tearing and bending them in all directions; it seemed to look round in agony, but there was none to help, the whirlwind became furious, until at length clouds of red sand, and a huge mass of rocks and trees, hurled into the air in stupendous confusion, hid it from my sight-I never saw it again.

If the end of this wilful wanderer was awful, that of the other was no less sad. In vain the Guardian Being entreated it to rise higher and stretch out its wings to the Sun; its efforts became weaker and weaker, back it would always fall to the ground; from listlessness its body grew so heavy and its wings so powerless, that it could scarcely raise itself; they flapped at its side like the drooping banners of a fallen Prince. It would have taken indeed a long time to restore them now. The difficulty was too great, and it loved to lie in careless repose; the sorrowful entreaties of the beauteous one, to which it coldly listened, now raised it once again; slowly, heavily it rose with its face earthwards; but ere it had risen far it faltered, wavered, fluttered, fell-yea, it fell—and when it touched the earth, its wings absorbed the vapour, till, drenched through, they clung to it like a winter's mist, and there it lay on the dank, cold ground, till it sank beneath the sod a black revolting

mass.

Grieved and disheartened with all I had seen, I doubted whether

the beauteous ones could have had the same origin with those that perished. Uncertainty and pity agonized me, it seemed impossible that any should pass untainted; yet, whence all those spotless wings, gliding on the sunbeams, and passing upward, like thoughts from a pure mind? My whole soul was riveted by this strange vision. I then fixed my eyes upon another little one, more beautiful I thought than any I had seen before. It also was guarded and overshadowed by glorious spreading wings, and its own tiny wings were as two dewdrops glittering in sunlight. Wherever it was, waking or sleeping, bright wings were spread on all sides. Whether it played with the flowers, or whether it sported with the birds, the brilliant hues of those wings were always reflected upon it. And I soon saw that its own tiny wings were becoming wonderfully larger; they spread out wide, enabling it to float upwards, as snowy down upon the wind, and it soared higher and higher, always guided and urged on by the bright ones which watched around it, and if ever for a moment it seemed to linger too long amid the birds and flowers, there was one, who more earnestly than all the rest, tremblingly and fervently withdrew it from those alluring snares.

I loved to watch it soaring; its slight form became thin and transparent as a shadow, and its wings seemed to expand as circles on ruffled water. Again I saw it rise higher and quicker than ever before, many soft eyes were bent upon it, they seemed to love it with a great love; then suddenly, as lightning from one part of heaven to the other, as an arrow from a bow, it was gone. Oh! joy, joy, blessed joy! I knew not whither or wherefore it was gone, but my joy was unspeakable!

But now, of all that had perplexed me, this perplexed me most, that I saw these bright Ones looked sad; why sad, when that little one, I thought, had gained the end, which I felt all ought to gain, which so many were striving to gain, and which they had so earnestly appeared to teach it to soar after? Most sad indeed they were; some, however, spread their wings more and more, as if they would follow it; but so sad was one, and this the one who had most anxiously kept guard over and tended the departed little one, that it drooped its wings, and fell to earth, as if in abject misery; strange! passing strange! that lovely, stainless little Being could not be lost! I could not think it, I could not mourn, nor even wish to see it back again. Then I saw large glowing wings spread over the fallen one, and as their lights and colours gleamed upon it, it raised itself and spread its wings again; thus ministered unto it rose with more strength than before, but I saw that still it was sad.

Still, still I watched, no time, no space could tell of the countless myriads I saw; like day-dreams they vanished, millions perished, thousands passed away: some were ever floating on