Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/62

. friend, and recollect how often a woman's coquetry has shipwrecked the happiness of others equally as noble-hearted originally, I have little pity for a confirmed coquette. " CHARITY.

BY LYDIA JANE PIERSON.

How meekly beautiful she moves Along the embattled line of life Regardless of the pomp and power, That mingles in the strife. The glittering toys that strew the way, She has no attraction in her eyes. How dim they seem beside the pearl That on her bosom lies.

She bears no sword amid the fray. She seeks no laurel, no renown. What should she do with earthly lay? Who has a heavenly crown? She seeks not and heeds not man's applause. She knows 'tis but a passing wind. And his revilings, scoffs, and taunts Fall harmless on her mind.

Careless of these, she passes them on. With a searching eye and a heeding ear, With a heart that feels for every moan, And pities every tear. "It is hers to raise the prostrate form, To staunch the wound with tender art; To lay the rich leaves of Gilead's balm Upon the bleeding heart.

To turn the lifted blade away, And shield the tower from the blow. To lead the weary on their way, And soothe the wanderer's woe. To aid the bending of age, And cheer its path of pain and gloom; Pointing the dim eye to the day That is not in the tomb.

And see her close folded to her breast. The outcast little orphan's form She gives it clothing, food, and rest. And shields it from the storm. Her eyes and heart are heavenward still. Her hands are given to her fellows. To bind each wound, to soothe each ill, And lead the weak toward heaven.

Even though her eyes are sometimes wet, When the venom's arrows pierce her breast, And blood drips from her weary feet. That know no earthly rest; Still, whose footsteps she pursues, Heals all her wounds with holy love; And she dries her tears with visions blest. Of her own home above.

THE ROYAL BRIDE

There was a bridal in the palace—the bridal of the eldest and most lovely princess—a girl in the bud of life—the springtime of existence—a beautiful creature, radiant in smiles, exquisitely graceful; and a powerful alliance had been formed worthy of a princess so lovely.

Her dress was richly decorated with jewels; the long silver veil fell to her feet, and a crown of gold, surmounted by a chaplet of orange flowers, rested on her brow. At the altar stood the priest, surrounded by the Emperor and Empress, the Ambassador, and the court, waiting with eagerness for the coming of the bride.

"Ah, my daughter," said the Emperor as the Princess approached, "thou hast delayed coming!" and he led her forward.

The Ambassador slowly knelt down, averting his head from the guests, and the Princess followed his example, seemingly unconscious of the presence of the court; suddenly her eyes met those of the Ambassador fixed upon her, and turning deadly pale, she made a sign for the ceremony to commence; the ring was placed upon her finger, and her small white hand rested for one moment in the Ambassador's; the blessing was pronounced; the heads of both were meekly bent; and glancing timidly at the still kneeling bridegroom, the Princess rose and knelt to her father. He raised her in his arms and, turning to the Empress, presented to the court the youthful Queen of Germany. "God bless her, may she be happy!" was the thrilling exclamation as the bridal party left the saloon, followed by the younger sisters of the bride and the graceful, mirth-loving courtiers. What, in  tears?"said the Empress kindly, when her daughter, overpowered by her concealed emotion, sobbed violently on her mother's bosom, "This is not right, my child; trust me, you shall hear of us often, and though absent, we shall never forget you; let me dry away your tears, for, hark! I hear sounds; footsteps are approaching."

"I trust your Majesty will pardon me," said the Ambassador hurriedly, retreating to behold the Queen of Germany alone, for the Empress had retired. "I was not aware your Majesty was here; this pavilion is generally deserted."

"So it would be now, but I have come here to see the sun set for the last time in my own land and to listen to the sound of my favorite band playing beneath these windows; you cannot blame me."

"My dear lady, I would not dare to breathe a word of disrespect against one so good and beautiful. Believe me, I would die to save you one moment's agony."

"Nay, is life so utterly valueless?" "Utterly, for its only charm is lost." "Impossible," said the Queen softly, "you have much to live for—fame, wealth, and doubtless love are yours;