full speed their mimic caricatures whom fate had thrown in their way.  The shock was so irresistible, that the poor Croats could make no use of their sabers against the furious onset of their unarmed foe:  they were beaten down from their saddles with the fist, and dragged off their horses by their dolmanys; those who could save themselves fled.  The Hussars disdained to pursue them; but they complained to their Colonel at having been opposed to ’such a rabble.’—­Schlesinger.

* * * * *

ORIGINAL POETRY.

* * * * *

A horoscope.

By Elizabeth Oakes Smith.

“Quorum pars magna fui.”

  Oh! loveliest of the stars of Heaven,
    Thus did ye walk the crystal dome,
  When to the earth a child was given,
    Within a love-lit, northern home;
  Thus leading up the starry train,
    With aspect still benign,
  Ye move in your fair orbs again
    As on that birth long syne.

  Within her curtained room apart,
    The pale young mother faintly smiled;
  While warmly to a father’s heart
    With love and prayer was pressed the child;
  And, softly to the lattice led,
    In whispers grandams show
  How those presaging stars have shed
    Around the child a glow.

  Born in the glowing summer prime,
    With planets thus conjoined in space
  As if they watched the natal time,
    And came to bless the infant face;
  Oh! there was gladness in that bower,
    And beauty in the sky;
  And Hope and Love foretold a dower
    Of brightest destiny.

  Unconscious child! that smiling lay
    Where love’s fond eyes, and bright stars gleamed,
  How long and toilsome grew the way
    O’er which those brilliant orbs had beamed;
  How oft the faltering step drew back
    In terror of the path,
  When giddy steep, and wildering track
    Seemed fraught with only wrath!

  How oft recoiled the woman foot,
    With tears that shamed the path she trod. 
  To find a canker at the root
    Of every hope, save that in God! 
  And long, oh! long, and weary long,
    Ere she had learned to feel
  That Love, unselfish, deep, and strong,
    Repays its own wild zeal.

  Bright Hesperus! who on the eyes
    Of Milton poured thy brightest ray! 
  Effulgent dweller of the skies,
    Take not from me thy light away—­
  I look on thee, and I recall
    The dreams of by-gone years—­
  O’er many a hope I lay the pall
    With its becoming tears;

  Yet turn to thee with thy full beam,
    And bless thee, Oh love-giving star! 
  For life’s sweet, sad, illusive dream
    Fruition, though in Heaven afar—­
  “A silver lining” hath the cloud
    Through dark and stormiest night,
  And there are eyes to pierce the shroud
    And see the hidden light.