fsat beside them sole princess in my exalted place, My ladies and my gentlemen stood by me on the dais: A mirror showed me I looked old and haggard in the face;

It showed me that my ladies all are fair to gaze upon, Plump, plenteous-haired, to every one love's secret lore is known,

They laugh by day, they sleep by night; ah me, what is a throne?

The singing men and women sang that night as usual, The dancers danced in pairs and sets, but music had a fall

A melancholy windy fall, as at a funeral.

Amid the toss of torches to my chamber back we swept; My ladies loosed my golden chain; meantime I could have wept

To think of some in galling chains, whether they waked or slept.

I took my bath of scented milk, delicately waited on, They burned sweet things for my delight, cedar and cinnamon,

They lit my shaded silver lamp and left me there alone.

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it

said:

"Men are clamoring, women, children, clamoring to be fed; Men like famished dogs are howling in the streets for

bread."

So two whispered by my door, not thinking I could hear, Vulgar, naked truth, ungarnished for a royal ear;

ooping in the background, not to stalk so near.

But I strained my utmost sense to catch this truth, and

mark:

There are families out grazing like cattle in the park,
A pair of peasants must be saved even if we build an ark.

A merry jest, a merry laugh, each strolled upon his way; One was my page, a lad I reared and bore with day by day:

One was my youngest maid, as sweet and white as cream in May.

Other footsteps followed softly with a weightier tramp; Voices said: "Picked soldiers have been summoned from

the camp

To quell these base-born ruffians who make free to howl and stamp."

"Howl and stamp?" one answered: "They made free to hurl a stone

At the minister's state coach, well aimed and stoutly thrown."

"There's work, then, for soldiers, for this rank crop must be mown."

"One I saw, a poor old fool, with ashes on his head, Whimpering because a girl had snatched his crust of bread:

Then he dropped; when some one raised him, it turned out he was dead."

"After us the deluge," was retorted with a laugh:

"If bread's the staff of life, they must walk without a

staff."

"While I've a loaf, they're welcome to my blessing and the chaff."

These passed. The king: stand up. Said my father with a smile:

"Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you a while,

She's sad to-day, and who but you her sadness can beguile?"

He too left me. Shall I touch my harp now while I

wait

(I hear them doubling guard below before our palace

gate)

Or shall I work the last gold stitch in my veil of state;

Or shall my woman stand and read some unimpassioned

scene,

There's music of a lulling sort in words that pause between:

Or shall she merely fan me while I wait here for the

queen?

Again I caught my father's voice in sharp word of command,

"Charge!" a clash of steel: "Charge again, the rebels

stand,

Smite and spare not, hand to hand; smite and spare not, hand to hand."

There swelled a tumult at the gate, high voices waxing

higher;

A flash of red reflected light lit the cathedral spire,

I heard a cry for fagots, then I heard a yell for fire.

* Sit and roast there with your meat, sit and bake there with your bread,

You who sat to see us starve!" one shrieking woman said: Sit on your throne and roast with your crown upon your head!"

Nay, this thing will I do, while my mother tarrieth,
I will take my fine spun gold, but not to sew therewith,
I will take my gold and gems, and rainbow fan and

wreath;

With a ransom in my lap, a king's ransom in my hand, I will go down to this people, will stand face to face, will stand

Where they curse king, queen, and princess of this cursed land.

They shall take all to buy them bread, take all I have to give:

I, if I perish, perish; they to-day shall eat and live;
I, if I perish, perish; that's the goal I half conceive:

Once to speak before the world, rend bare my heart and

show

The lesson I have learned, which is death, is life, to

know.

I, if I perish, perish; in the name of God I go.

CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.

SISTER AND I.

E were hunting for wintergreen berries,
One May day, long gone by,

Out on the rocky cliff's edge,

Little sister and I.

Sister had hair like the sunbeams;

Black as a crow's wing, mine;

Sister had blue, dove's eyes;

Wicked, black eyes are mine.

Why, see how my eyes are faded

And my hair, it is white as snow!
And thin, too! don't you see it is?
I tear it sometimes; so!

There, do n't hold my hands, Maggie,
I don't feel like tearing it now;
But where was I in my story?
Oh, I was telling you how

We were looking for wintergreen berries;
'Twas one bright morning in May,
And the moss-grown rocks were slippery
With the rains of yesterday.

But I was cross that morning,

Though the sun shone ever so brightAnd when sister found the most berries, I was angry enough to fight!

And when she laughed at my pouting-
We were little things, you know—
I clinched my little fist up tight,
And struck her the biggest blow!
I struck her I tell you-I struck her,
And she fell right over below-
There, there, Maggie, I won't rave now;
You need n't hold me so-

She went right over, I tell you,

Down, down to the depths below!

"Tis deep and dark and horrid
There, where the waters flow!
She fell right over, moaning,
"Bessie, oh, Bessie!" so sad,
That, when I looked down affrighted,
It drove me mad-mad!

Only her golden hair streaming

Out on the rippling wave,