and feeling that he could not regain the shore, although very near it,
he threw the flowers upon the bank, and casting a last affectionate look
upon his lady-love, he cried 'Forget me not!' and was buried in the
waters."--_Gardener's Magazine._

* * * * *


HOME.


_Leonhard._ See here what spacious halls: how all around
Us breathes magnificence!

_Spinarosa._ A princely pile!
But ah! how nobler far its daring site!
It rears its tow'rs amid these rocks and glaciers,
As if proud man were in his might resolved
To add _his_ rock to those that spurn the vale.

_Leon._ All here is beautiful! but 'tis not home!
'Tis true I was a child scarce eight years old
When led by Pietro into Italy--
Yet are my home's green lineaments as fresh
As when first painted on my infant soul;
This castle bears them not.--My home lay hid
In the deep bosom of gigantic oaks,
That o'er its roof their guardian shadows flung.
Nor towers, nor gates, nor pinnacles, were there;
With lowly thatch and humble wicket graced,