SERENADE.

Now the toils of day are over, And the sun hath sunk to rest, Seeking, like a fiery lover,

The bosom of the blushing west

The faithful night keeps watch and ward,

Raising the moon her silver shield, And summoning the stars to guard

The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!

I heard a guitar,

On the blue waters clear, And knew by its music, That Selim was near!

Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink,
How the soft music swells,
And I hear the soft clink
Of the minaret bells !

Hid by her mantle dark and dim, In pious hope I hither hie,

And humbly chant mine ev'ning hymn.

Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine!

(For never holy pilgrim kneel'd, Or wept at feet more pure than thine), My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde!

THE MINARET BELLS.

TINK-A-TINK, tink-a-tink, By the light of the star, On the blue river's brink, I heard a guitar.

TREE.

Then round, and round, and out and in,
All day the puzzled sage did spin;
In vain - it mattered not a pin,

The pigtail hung behind him.

And right, and left, and round about, And up, and down, and in, and out, He turned; but still the pigtail stout Hung steadily behind him.

And though his efforts never slack, And though he twist, and twirl, and tack,

Alas! still faithful to his back

The pigtail hangs behind him.

THE CHAPLET.

FROM UHLAND.

"Es pflückte Blümlein mannigfalt."

A LITTLE girl through field and wood Went plucking flowerets here and there,

When suddenly beside her stood
A lady wondrous fair!

The lovely lady smiled, and laid

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A wreath upon the maiden's brow; Wear it, 'twill blossom soon," she said,

Although 'tis leafless now."

The little maiden older grew
And wandered forth of moonlight

eves,

And sighed and loved as maids will do ; When, lo! her wreath bore leaves.

Then was our maid a wife, and hung When from the garland's leaves there Upon a joyful bridegroom's bosom ;

sprung

Fair store of blossom.

And presently a baby fair

Upon her gentle breast she reared; When midst the wreath that bound her hair

Rich golden fruit appeared.