His hoofs were shod with swiftness; where he ran
Glided the ground like water; in his eye
Flashed the strange fire of spirits still untamed,
As when the desert owned him for its lord.
Mars! what a noble creature did he seem!
Too noble for a subject to bestride,—
Worth gold in talents; chosen for a prince,
The most renowned and generous on earth.
"Obey my son, Pharsalian! bring the steed!"
The Monarch spoke. A signal to the grooms,
And on the plain they led Bucephalus.

"Mount, vassal, mount! Why pales thy cheek with fear?
Mount-ha! art slain? Another! mount again!"
'Twas all in vain.-No hand could curb a neck
Clothed with such might and grandeur, to the rein:
No thong or spur could make his fury yield.-
Now bounds he from the earth; and now he rears,
Now madly plunges, strives to rush away,

Like that strong bird-his fellow, king of air!

Quick take him hence; cried Philip, he is wild!”
"Stay, father, stay!-lose not this gallant steed,
For that base grooms cannot control his ire!
Give me the bridle!" Alexander threw

His light cloak from his shoulders, and drew nigh.
The brave steed was no courtier: prince and groom
Bore the same mien to him.-He started back,
But with firm grasp the youth retained and turned
His fierce eyes from his shadow to the sun,
Then with that hand, in after years which hurled
The bolts of war among embattled hosts:
Conquered all Greece, and over Persia, swayed
Imperial command,-which on Fame's Temple
Graved, Alexander, Victor of the World!-

With that same hand he smoothed the flowing mane,
Patted the glossy skin with soft caress,

Soothingly speaking in low voice the while.

Lightly he vaulted to his first great strife.

How like a Centaur looked the youth and steed!

Firmly the hero sat; his glowing cheek

Flushed with the rare excitement; his high brow
Pale with a stern resolve; his lip as smiling
And his glance as calm, as if, in dalliance,
Instead of danger, with a girl he played.
Untutored to obey, how raves the steed!
Champing the bit, and tossing the white foam,
And struggling to get free, that he might dart,
Swift as an arrow from the shivering bow-
The rein is loosened. "Now, Bucephalus !"
Away-away! he flies; away-away!

The multitude stood hushed in breathless awe,
And gazed into the distance.

Lo! a speck,-
A darksome speck on the horizon! 'Tis-
'Tis he! Now it enlarges: now are seen
The horse and rider; now, with ordered pace,
The horse approaches, and the rider leaps
Down to the earth and bends his rapid pace
Unto the King's pavilion. The wild steed
Unled, uncalled, is following his subduer.
Philip wept tears of joy; "My son, go seek
A larger empire; for so vast a soul,
Too small is Macedonia!"

THE THREE HORSEMEN.-[Trans. from the German.]

Three horsemen halted the inn before,
Three horsemen entered the oaken door,
And loudly called for the welcome cheer
That was wont to greet the traveler here.

"Good woman," they cried, as the hostess came,
A buxom, rosy, portly old dame,

"Good woman, how's your wine and beer?
And how's your little daughter dear?"
"My house is ever supplied with cheer,
But my daughter lieth upon her bier."
A shadow over the horsemen fell;
Each wrapped in thoughts he could never tell;
And silently one by one they crept

To the darkened room where the maiden slept.
The golden hair was rippling low
Over a forehead pure as snow,
And the little hands so closely pressed
Clasping a cross to the pulseless breast.

"I loved thee ere the death-chill lay

On thee, sweet child," and one turned away; "I would have loved thee," the second said,

"Hadst thou learned to love me, and lived to wed."

"I loved thee always, I love thee now,"
The third one cried as he kissed her brow;
'In the heavens to come our souls shall wed,
I have loved thee living, I love thee dead."
Then silently out from the oaken door,
Three horsemen went to return no more.

THE DIAMOND WEDDING.

Come sit close by my side, my darling,
Sit up very close to-night:

Let me clasp your tremulous fingers
In mine, as tremulous quite.
Lay your silvery head on my bosom,
As you did when 'twas shining gold:
Somehow I know no difference,

Though they say we are very old.

'Tis seventy-five years to-night, wife,
Since we knelt at the altar low,
And the fair young minister of God
(He died long years ago,)
Pronounced us one, that Christmas eve-
How short they've seemed to me,
The years-and yet I'm ninety-seven,
And you are ninety-three.

That night I placed on your finger
A band of purest gold;

And to-night I see it shining

On the withered hand I hold.
How it lightens up the memories
That o'er my vision come!
First of all is the merry children
That once made glad our home.

There was Benny, our darling Benny,
Our first-born pledge of bliss,
As beautiful a boy as ever

Felt a mother's loving kiss.

'Twas hard-as we watched him fading

Like a floweret day by day-

To feel that He who had lent him
Was calling him away.

My heart it grew very bitter

As I bowed beneath the stroke;

And yours, though you said so little,

I knew was almost broke.

We made him a grave 'neath the daisies (There are five now, instead of one),

And we've learned, when our Father chastens,

To say, "Thy will be done."

Then came Lillie and Allie-twin cherubs,
Just spared from the courts of heaven--

To comfort our hearts for a moment:
God took as soon as he'd given.

Then Katie, our gentle Katie!

We thought her very fair,

With her blue eyes soft and tender,
And her curls of auburn hair.

Like a queen she looked at her bridal
(I thought it were you instead):
But her ashen lips kissed her first-born,
And mother and child were dead.
We said that of all our number

We had two, our pride and stay-
Two noble boys, Fred and Harry ;-
But God thought the other way.

Far away, on the plains of Shiloh,
Fred sleeps in an unknown grave:
With his ship and noble sailors
Harry sank beneath the wave.
So sit closer, darling, closer-
Let me clasp your hand in mine:
Alone we commenced life's journey,
Alone we are left behind.

Your hair, once gold, to silver
They say by age has grown;

But I know it has caught its whiteness
From the halo round His throne.
They give us a diamond wedding
This Christmas eve, dear wife;
But I know your orange-blossoms
Will be a crown of life.

'Tis dark; the lamps should be lighted;
And your hand has grown so cold,
Has the fire gone out? how I shiver!
But, then, we are very old.
Hush! I hear sweet strains of music:
Perhaps the guests have come.
No-'tis the children's voices-

I know them, every one.

On that Christmas eve they found them,
Their hands together clasped;

But they never knew their children
Had been their wedding guests.
With her head upon his bosom,
That had never ceased its love,
They held their diamond wedding
In the mansion house above.

MARK TWAIN'S WATCH.-S. L. CLEMENS.

My beautiful new watch had run eighteen months without losing or gaining, and without breaking any part of its machinery, or stopping. I had come to believe it infallible in its judgments about the time of day, and to consider its constitution and its anatomy imperishable. But at last, one night, I let it run down. I grieved about it as if it were a recognized messenger and forerunner of calamity. But byand-by I cheered up, set the watch by guess, and commanded my bodings and superstitions to depart. Next day I stepped into the chief jeweler's to set it by the exact time, and the head of the establishment took it out of my hand and proceeded to set it for me. Then he said, "She is four minutes slow-regulator wants pushing up." I tried to stop him-tried to make him understand that the watch kept perfect time. But no; all this human cabbage could see was that the watch was four minutes slow, and the regulator must be pushed up a little; and so, while I danced around him in anguish, and implored him to let the watch alone, he calmly and cruelly did the shameful deed. My watch began to gain. It gained faster and faster day by day. Within the week it sickened to a raging fever, and its pulse went up to a hundred and fifty in the shade. At the end of two months it had left all the timepieces of the town far in the rear, and was a fraction over thirteen days ahead of the almanac. It was away into November enjoying the snow, while the October leaves were still turning. It hurried up house rent, bills payable, and such things, in such a ruinous way that I could not abide it. I took it to the watchmaker to be regulated. He asked me if I had ever had it repaired. I said no, it had never needed any repairing. He looked a look of vicious happiness and eagerly pried the watch open, and then put a small dice box into his eye and peered into its machinery. He said it wanted cleaning and oiling, besides regulating-come in a week. After being cleaned, and oiled, and regulated, my watch slowed down to that degree that it ticked like a tolling bell. I began to be left by trains, I failed all appointments, I got to missing my