THE TOAST. THE feast is o'er. Now brimming wine And silence fills the crowded hall, Then up arose the noble host, And smiling, cried, "A toast! a toast! To all our ladies fair Here, before all, I pledge the name Then to his feet each gallant sprung, And every cup was raised on high, "Enough, enough!" he smiling said. And lowly bent his haughty head; "That all may have their due, Now each in turn must play his part And pledge the ladye of his heart, Like gallant knight and true!" Then one by one each guest sprung up And named the loved one's name; "Tis now St. Leon's turn to rise; Envied by some, admired by all, St. Leon raised his kindling eye, "To one whose love for me shall last When lighter passions long have past, So holy 'tis, and true; To one whose love has longer dwelt, Each guest upstarted at the word, And Stanley said, "We crave the name, St. Leon paused, as if he would Then bent his noble head, as though TO MY MOTHER. My Mother! many a burning word Would not suffice the love to tell With which my inmost soul is stirred, As thoughts of thee my bosom swell! But better I should ill express The passion thus, than leave untold The glow of filial tenderness Which never in my heart grows cold. Oft, as I muse o'er all the wrong, The lessons which thy love then taught; And now, as feelings all divine With deepest power my spirit touch, The hopes with which thy heart runs o'er Rev. Wm. Croswell, D. D. TO MY WIFE. "My bride, My wife, my life, O we will walk this world Yoked in all exercise of noble aim, And so through these dark gates across the wild That no man knows." If thou wert by my side, my love, If thou, my love, wert by my side, How gayly would our pinnace glide I miss thee at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream But most beneath the lamp's pale beam |