For the Palla Hum .

The Crusaders Return.
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Pm once again in my native land,


| bare my brow its breezes bland,


stand more my dear hills,
And gaze their thousand gushing rlls.
From the cod and cherries world, come
pilgrim TO thee, my childhood's home,
Where dwell my sircs, whose actions bold
Are shadowed forth n the tales of old
As thy walls in the golden glow,
Casting their shade o'er the vale below,
Thou seem'st the forn OF warrior bravo
Watching beside his loved grave.
The rustic bower, where f,ndly Tvs inc
The tendriis ~eel OF the creeping vine;
The brook where the chrysta! flow,
Afe here as they were ten years ago.
No father is to greet now,
To lay his hand on my burning brow,
Aud welcome in tones swecty mild,
To his mountain home his wayward child
No sister comes with her gentle vile,
Her lispng voice, and her sunny smile;
Each feature Of other days trace,
And gaze ia her long los, mothers face.
Her auburn locks, and Madonna brow,
Meath the churchyard mould resting now,
There's not sound that floats OH the gale
Blu, brings 10 my ear the sadd'ning tale,
Ny father fell in the battle field,
Where the Paynim foe taught to yield;
And he, the boast Of our house of pride,
My gentle brother sleeps By his side.
Was il for this ,arnei from :io glance
OF the dark-eyed maid of sunny France,
And came to my own Bavarian home
i stranger amid its halls to Eoam2
They gone, they gone, that youthful banl,
The beauty and pride Of my native land
They gone, they are gone, and alone
Am left to weep DER the altar stone. CLARA.