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-They had one grave-one lonely bridal bed—
No friend, no kinsman, there a tear to shed!
His name had ceased-her heart outlived each tie,
Once more to look on that dead face-and die!

A THOUGHT OF THE FUTURE.

DREAMER! and wouldst thou know

If Love goes with us to the viewless bourne? Wouldst thou bear hence th' unfathom'd source of woe

In thy heart's lonely urn?

What hath it been to thee,

That power, the dweller of thy secret breast?
A dove sent forth across a stormy sea,
Finding no place of rest:

A precious odour cast

On a wild stream, that recklessly swept by;
A voice of music utter'd to the blast,
And winning no reply.

Even were such answer thine,

Wouldst thou be blest?-too sleepless, too profound,

Are thy soul's hidden springs; there is no line Their depth of love to sound.

Do not words faint and fail,

When thou wouldst fill them with that ocean's power?

As thine own cheek before high thoughts grows pale

In some o'erwhelming power?

Doth not thy frail form sink

Beneath the chain that binds thee to one spot, When thy heart strives, held down by many a link Where thy beloved are not?

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And wouldst thou bear all this,

The burden and the shadow of thy life,
To trouble the blue skies of cloudless bliss,
With earthly feelings' strife?

Not thus, not thus-oh no

Not veil'd and mantled with dim clouds of care,
That spirit of my soul should with me go,
To breathe celestial air:

But as the sky-lark springs
To its own sphere, where night afar is driven,
As to its place the flower-seed findeth wings,
So must love mount to Heaven!

Vainly it shall not strive There on weak words to pour a stream of fire; Thought unto thought shall kindling impulse give, As light might wake a lyre.

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THE BELL AT SEA.

The dangerous islet called the Bell-Rock, on the coast of Fife, used formerly to be marked only by a bell, which was so placed as to be swung by the motion of the waves, when the tide rose above the rock. A light-house has since been erected there.

WHEN the tide's billowy swell
Had reach'd its height,
Then toll'd the rock's lone bell
Sternly by night.

Far over cliff and surge

Swept the deep sound, Making each wild wind's dirge Still more profound.

Yet that funereal tone
The sailor bless'd,
Steering through darkness on,
With fearless breast.

E'en so may we, that float

On life's wide sea, Welcome each warning note, Stern though it be!

THE COTTAGE GIRL.

A CHILD beside a hamlet's fount at play,
Her fair face laughing at the sunny day;
The cheerful girl her labour leaves awhile,

To gaze on Heaven's and Earth's unsullied smile!
Her happy dog looks on her dimpled cheeks,
And of his joy in his own language speaks;
A gush of waters, tremulously bright,
Kindling the air to gladness with their light;
And a soft gloom beyond, of summer trees,
Darkening the turf, and shadow'd o'er by these,
A low, dim, woodland cottage :-this was all!

What had the scene for memory to recall With a fond look of love? What secret spell With the heart's pictures made its image dwell? What but the spirit of the joyous child, That freshly forth o'er stream and verdure smiled, Casting upon the common things of earth A brightness. born and gone with infant mirth!

DEATH OF AN INFANT.

DEATH found strange beauty on that cherub brow,
And dash'd it out-There was a tint of rose
On cheek and lip,-he touch'd the veins with ice,
And the rose faded, forth from those blue eyes
There spoke a wishful tenderness,—a doubt
Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence
Alone can wear. With ruthless haste he bound
The silken fringes of their curtaining lids

For ever; there had been a murmuring sound, With which the babe would claim its mother's ear,

Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set His scal of silence. But there beam'd a smile So fix'd and holy from that marble brow,— Death gazed, and left it there ;-he dared not steal The signet-ring of Heaven.

THE SUBTERRANEAN STREAM

"Thou stream,

Whose source is inaccessibly profound, Whither do thy mysterious waters tend? Thou imagest my life."

DARKLY thou glidest onward,

Thou deep and hidden wave!

The laughing sunshine hath not look'd Into thy secret cave.

Thy current makes no music-
A hollow sound we hear,
A muffled voice of mystery,
And know that thou art near.

No brighter line of verdure Follows thy lonely way; No fairy moss, or lily's cup, Is freshen'd by thy play.

The halcyon doth not seek thee,

Her glorious wings to lave; Thou know'st no tint of the summer sky

Thou dark and hidden wave!

Yet once will day behold thee,

When to the mighty sea, Fresh bursting from their cavern'd veins Leap thy lone waters free.

There wilt thou greet the sunshine For a moment, and be lost, With all thy melancholy sounds, In the ocean's billowy host.

Oh! art thou not, dark river,
Like the fearful thoughts untold,
Which haply in the hush of night
O'er many a soul have roll'd?

Those earth-born strange misgivings
Who hath not felt their power?
Yet who hath breathed them to his friend
E'en in his fondest hour?

They hold no heart-communion, They find no voice in song, They dimly follow far from earth The grave's departed throng.

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Thy pensive eye but ranges

O'er ruin'd fane and hall,
Oh! the deep soul has changes

More sorrowful than all.

Talk not, while these before thee throng
Of silence in the place of song.

See scorn-where love has perish'd;
Distrust—where friendship grew!
Pride-where once nature cherish'd
All tender thoughts and true!
And shadows of oblivion thrown
O'er every trace of idols gone.

Weep not for tombs far scatter'd,
For temples prostrate laid-
In thine own heart lie shatter'd

The altars it had made.

Go, sound its depths in doubt and fear! Heap up no more its treasures here.

HYMN OF THE VAUDOIS MOUNTAINEERS IN TIMES OF PERSECUTION.

"Thanks be to God for the mountains!""
Howitt's Book of the Seasons

For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
Thou hast made thy children mighty,

By the touch of the mountain sod.
Thou hast fix'd our ark of refuge,

Where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod; For the strength of the hills we bless thee, Our God, our father's God!

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The gloomiest soul is not all gloom;

The saddest heart is not all sadness;

And sweetly o'er the darkest doom

The spirit meek, and yet by pain unshaken,
The faith, the love, the lofty constancy,
Guide us where these are with our sister flown-
They were of Thee, and thou hast claim'd thine

own!

KORNER AND HIS SISTER.

Charles Theodore Korner, the celebrated young German poet and soldier, was killed in a skirmish with a detachment of French troops, on the 20th of August, 1813, a few hours after the composition of his popular piece, "The Sword-song." He was buried at the village of Wobbelin in Mecklenburgh, under a beautiful oak, in a recess of which he had frequently deposited verses composed by him while campaigning in its vicinity. The monument erected to his memory is of cast iron, and the upper part is wrought into a lyre and sword, a favourite emblem of Korner's, from which one of his works had been ontitled. Near the grave of the poet is that of his only sister, who died of grief for his loss, having only survived him long enough to complete his portrait, and a drawing of his burialplace. Over the gate of the cemetery is engraved one of his own lines:

"Vergiss die treuen Todten nicht."
Forget not the faithful dead.
See Richardson's Translation of Korner's Life and
Works, and Downe's Letters from Mecklenburgh.

GREEN wave the oak for ever o'er thy rest,
Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest
And, in the stillness of thy country's breast,
Thy place of memory, as an altar, keepest;
Brightly thy spirit o'er her hills was pour'd,
Thou of the lyre and sword!

Rest, bard! rest, soldier!-by the father's hand
Here shall the child of after years be led,

There shines some lingering beam of gladness. With his wreath-offering silently to stand,

Despair is never quite despair;

Nor life, nor death, the future closes; And round the shadowy brow of care Will hope and fancy twine their roses.

MONUMENTAL INSCRIPTION.

Elle etait du monde, ou les plus belles choses
Ont le pire destin:

Ft Rose, elle a dure, ce que durent les roses,
L'espace d'un matin.

EARTH! guard what here we lay in holy trust,
That which hath left our home a darken'd
place,

Wanting the form, the smile, now veil'd with dust,
The light departed with our loveliest face.
Yet from thy bonds, undying hope springs free-
We have but lent our beautiful to thee.

But thou, oh Heaven! keep, keep what Thou hast taken,

And with our treasure keep our hearts on high!'

In the hush'd presence of the glorious dead. Soldier and bard! for thou thy path hast trod With freedom and with God.

The oak waved proudly o'er thy burial rite,
On thy crown'd bier to slumber warriors bore
thee,

And with true hearts thy brethren of the fight
Wept as they vail'd their drooping banners o'er

thee,

And the deep guns with rolling peal gave token,
That lyre and sword were broken.

Thou hast a hero's tomb:-a lowlier bed
Is hers, the gentle girl beside thee lying,
The gentle girl that bow'd her fair young head,
When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow dying.
Brother, true friend! the tender and the brave-

She pined to share thy grave.

Fame was thy gift from others;-but for her,
To whom the wide world held that only spot
She loved thee!-lovely in your lives ye were,
And in your carly deaths divided not.
Thou hast thine oak, thy trophy :--what hath
she?

Her own blest place by thee!

Come to the sunset tree!

The day is past and gone;

The woodman's axe lies free,

And the reaper's work is done!

FRAGMENT.

Он, what is Nature's strength? the vacant eye
By mind deserted hath a dread reply;
The wild delirious laughter of despair,
The mirth of frenzy-seek an answer there.
-Weep not, sad moralist, o'er desert plains,
Strow'd with the wrecks of grandeur, mouldering
fanes,

Arches of triumphs long with weeds o'ergrown,
And regal cities-now the serpent's own ;-
Earth has more dreadful ruins, one lost mind
Whose star is quench'd, hath lessons for mankind
Of deeper import than each prostrate dome
Mingling its marble with the dust of Rome.

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Thou hast thy home!- there is no power in

change

To reach that temple of the past-no sway In all time brings, of sudden, dark, or strange, To sweep the still transparent peace away From its hush'd air.

And, oh! that glorious image of the dead!
Sole thing whereon a deathless love may rest,
And in deep faith and dreamy worship shed
Its high gifts fearlessly!-I call thee blest,
If only there!

Blest, for the beautiful within thee dwelling,
Never to fade-a refuge from distrust,
A spring of purer life, still freshly welling,
To clothe the barrenness of earthly dust
With flowers divine.

And thou hast been beloved!-it is no dream,
No false mirage for thee, the fervent love.
The rainbow still unreach'd, the ideal gleam,
That ever seems before, beyond, above,
Far off to shine.

But thou, from all the daughters of the earth Singled and mark'd, hast known its home and place,

And the high memory of its holy worth
To this own life a glory and a grace
For thee hath given.

And art thou not still fondly, truly loved?
-Thou art!-the love his spirit bore away
Was not for earth!-a treasure but removed,
A bright bird parted for a clearer day-
Thine still in Heaven!

THE IVY OF KENILWORTIL

HEARD'ST thou what the Ivy sigh'd,
Waving where all else hath died,
In the place of regal mirth,
Now the silent Kenilworth?

With its many glistening leaves,
There a solemn robe it weaves;
And a voice is in each fold,
Like an oracle's of old.

Heard'st thou, while with dews of night
Shone its berrics darkly bright?
Yes! the whisperer seem'd to say,
"All things-all things pass away.

"Where I am, the harp hath rung
Banners and proud shields among,
And the blood-red wine flow'd free,
And the fire shot sparks of glee.

"Where I am, now last and lone,
Queenly steps have come and gone
Gorgeous masques have glided by.
Unto rolling harmony.

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