all the liberal air rains melody
Around. O night! O time! delay, delay,--
Pause here, entranced! Ye evening winds, come near,
But whisper not,--and you ye flowers, fresh culled
From odorous nooks, where silvery rivulets run,
Breath silent incense still.
Hail, matchless queen!
Thou, like the high white Alps, canst hear, unspoiled,
The world's artillery (thundering praises) pass.
And keep serene and safe thy spotless fame!

LOVE SONG.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE

BY R. S. CHILTON.

White and silent shines the moonlight,
And the earth, in slumber deep,
Smiles, as of the silver splendor
Conscious in her sleep!
How the moonbeams dance and glimmer--
Hunted by the summer breeze--
On the bosom of the river,
Through the branches of the trees!
May this night of quiet beauty
Be the symbol and the sign,
Of the holy love that wraps us
In its light divine!
So shalt thou still reign forever,
While the glow of life abides,
As thou now dost, dearest--empress
Of my heart's deep tides!

AUTUMN LINES.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE

BY J. R. THOMPSON.

Gone is the golden October
Down the swift current of time,
Month by the poets called sober,
Just for the sake of the rhyme.

Tints of vermilion and yellow
Margined the forest and stream;
Poets then told us 'twas mellow,
How inconsistent they seem!

Now, while the mountain in shadow
Dappled and hazy appears,
While the late corn in the meadow,
Culprit-like, loses its ears--

Get some choice spirits together,
Bring out the dogs and the guns,
Follow the birds o'er the heather,
Where the 'cold rivulet' runs.

Look for them under the cover,
Just as the pole-star at sea
Always is sought by the rover,
Near where the pointers may be.

Yet if your field-tramping brothers
Should not be fellows of mark,
Leave the young partridge for others,
Only make sure of a lark.

Thus shall the charms of the season
Gently throw round you their spell,
Thus enjoy nature in reason,
If in the country you dwell.

But if condemned as a denizen
In a great town to reside,
Take down a volume of Tennyson,
Make him do service as guide;

Borne upon poesy's pinion,
Rise the heights that he gains,
Range over Fancy's dominion,
W