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They died-as on the water's breast

The ripple melts away,

When the breeze that stirred it sinks to rest

So perished they!

Mysterious in their sudden birth,

And mournful in their close,

Passing, and finding not on earth

Aim or repose.

Whence were they?-like the breath of flowers
Why thus to come and go?-

A long, long journey must be ours

Ere this we know!

THE FORSAKEN HEARTH.

Was mir fehlt 1-Mir fehlt ja alles,
Bin so ganz verlassen hier!

Tyrolese Melody.

THE Hearth, the Hearth is desolate, the fire is quenched and gone,

That into happy children's eyes once brightly laughing shone;

The place where mirth and music met is hushed through day and night,

Oh! for one kind, one sunny face, of all that there made light!

But scattered are those pleasant smiles afar by mount and shore,

Like gleaming waters from one spring dispersed

to meet no more;

Those kindred eyes reflect not now each other's joy or mirth,

One haply revels at the feast, while one may droop alone,

For broken is the household chain, the bright fire quenched and gone!

Not so 't is not a broken chain-thy memory binds them still,

Thou holy Hearth of other days, though silent now and chill!

The smiles, the tears, the rites beheld by thine attesting stone,

Have yet a living power to mark thy children for thine own.

The father's voice, the mother's prayer, though called from earth away,

With music rising from the dead, their spirits yet shall sway;

And by the past, and by the grave, the parted yet

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PEACE to thy dreams!-thou art slumbering now, The moonlight's calm is upon thy brow; All the deep love that o'erflows thy breast, Unbound is that sweet wreath of home-alas! the Like the scent of a flower in its folded bell, Lies 'midst the hush of thy heart at rest, lonely Hearth!

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When eve through the woodlands hath sighed
farewell.

Peace!-the sad memories that through the day
With a weight on thy lonely bosom lay,
The sudden thoughts of the changed and dead,
That bowed thee, as winds bow the willow's head,
The yearnings for faces and voices gone-
All are forgotten!-Sleep on, sleep on!
Are they forgotten?-It is not so!

E'en now o'er thine aspect swift changes pass,

But are they speaking, singing yet, as in their days Slumber divides not the heart from its wo.
of glee?
Those voices, are they lovely still, still sweet on Like lights and shades over wavy grass:

earth or sea?—

Oh! some are hushed, and some are changed, and never shall one strain

Blend their fraternal cadences triumphantly again!

Tremblest thou, Dreamer?-O love and grief!
Ye have storms that shake e'en the closed-up leaf!

On thy parted lips there's a quivering thrill,
As on a lyre ere its chords are still;

And of the hearts that here were linked by long-On the long silk lashes that fringe thine eye, remembered years, There's a large tear gathering heavily; Alas! the brother knows not now when fall the A rain from the clouds of thy spirit pressedsister's tears! Sorrowful Dreamer! this is not rest!

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What roof with dark, deep, summer foliage crowned, O! fair as ocean's foam!

Shall thy bright bosom shed a gleam around?

Or seek'st thou some old shrine

Of nymph or saint, no more by votary wooed,
Though still, as if divine,
Breathing a spirit o'er the solitude?

Yet wherefore ask thy way?
Blest, ever blest, whate'er its aim, thou art!
Unto the greenwood spray,

Bearing no dark remembrance at thy heart!

No echoes that will blend

A sadness with the whispers of the grove;
No memory of a friend

Far off, or dead, or changed to thee, thou dove!

Oh! to some cool recess

Take, take me with thee on the summer wind, Leaving the weariness

And all the fever of this life behind:

The aching and the void

Within the heart whereunto none reply,

The young bright hopes destroyedBird! bear me with thee through the sunny sky!

PSYCHE BORNE BY ZEPHYRS TO THE ISLAND OF PLEASURE.*

Souvent l'ame, fortifiée par la contemplation des chases divines, voudroit déployer ses ailes vers le ciel. Elle cros qu'au terme de sa carrière un rideau va se lever pour lui découvrir des scènes de lumière: mais quand la mort touche son corps périssable, elle jette un regard en arrière vers les plaisirs terrestres et vers ses compagnes mortelles-Schlegel Translated by Madame de Stael.

FEARFULLY and mournfully

Thou bidd'st the earth farewell, And yet thou 'rt passing, loveliest one! In a brighter land to dwell.

Ascend, ascend rejoicing!

The sunshine of that shore Around thee, as a glorious robe, Shall stream for evermore.

The breezy music wandering

There through th' Elysian sky, Hath no deep tone that seems to float From a happier time gone by:

And there the day's last crimson

Gives no sad memories birth, No thought of dead or distant friends, Or partings-as on earth.

Yet fearfully and mournfully

Thou bidd'st that earth farewell, Although thou 'rt passing, loveliest one! In a brighter land to dwell.

A land where all is deathless-
The sunny wave's repose,
The wood with its rich melodies,
The summer and its rose.

⚫ Written for a picture in which Psyche, on her flight upwards, is represented looking back sadly and anxiously to the earth.

A land that sees no parting,
That hears no sound of sighs,
That waits thee with immortal air
Lift, lift those anxious eyes!

Oh! how like thee, thou trembler !
Man's spirit fondly clings
With timid love, to this, its world
Of old familiar things!
We pant, we thirst for fountains

That gush not here below!
On, on we toil, allured by dreams
Of the living water's flow:

We pine for kindred natures

To mingle with our own;
For communings more full and high
Than aught by mortal known:
We strive with brief aspirings
Against our bounds in vain ;
Yet summoned to be free at last,

We shrink-and clasp our chain!

And fearfully and mournfully

We bid the earth farewell, Though passing from its mists, like thee, In a brighter world to dwell.

THE BOON OF MEMORY.

Many things answered me.-Manfred.

I Go, I go!—and must mine image fade,
From the green spots wherein my childhood played,
By my own streams?

Must my life part from each familiar place,
As a bird's song, that leaves the woods no trace
Of its lone themes?

Will the friend pass my dwelling, and forget
The welcomes there, the hours when we have met
In grief or glee?

All the sweet counsel, the communion high,
The kindly words of trust, in days gone by,
Poured full and free?

A boon, a talisman, O Memory! give,
To shrine my name in hearts where I would live

For evermore!

Bid the wind speak of me where I have dwelt, Bid the stream's voice, of all my soul hath felt, A thought restore!

In the rich rose, whose bloom I loved so well, In the dim brooding violet of the dell,

Set deep that thought!

And let the sunset's melancholy glow,

And Memory answered me:-" Wild wish and vain!
I have no hues the loveliest to detain
In the heart's core.

The place they held in bosoms all their own,
Soon with new shadows fill'd,new flowers o'ergrown,
Is theirs no more."

Hast thou such power, O Love?-And Love replied,
'It is not mine! Pour out thy soul's full tide
Of hope and trust,

Prayer, tear, devotedness, that boon to gain-
T is but to write, with the heart's fiery rain,
Wild words on dust!"

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THE GRAVES OF MARTYRS. THE kings of old have shrine and tomb, In many a minster's haughty gloom; And green, along the ocean side, The mounds arise where heroes died; But show me, on thy flowery breast, Earth! where thy nameless martyrs rest! The thousands that, uncheered by praise, Have made one offering of their days; For Truth, for Heaven, for Freedom's sake, Resigned the bitter cup to take, And silently, in fearless faith, Bowing their noble souls to death.

And let the spring's first whisper, faint and low, Where sleep they, Earth?-by no proud stone

With me be fraught!

Their narrow couch of rest is known;

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DREAM'ST thou of Heaven?-What dreams are
thine?

Fair child, fair gladsome child!
With eyes that like the dew-drop shine,
And bounding footstep wild.

Tell me what hues th' immortal shore
Can wear, my Bird! to thee,
Ere yet one shadow hath passed o'er
Thy glance and spirit free?

"Oh! beautiful is heaven, and bright

With long, long summer days!
I see its lilies gleam in light,
Where many a fountain plays.
"And there unchecked, methinks, I rove,
Seeking where young flowers lie,
In vale and golden-fruited grove—
Flowers that are not to die!"

Thou Poet of the lonely thought,
Sad heir of gifts divine!
Say, with what solemn glory fraught
Is Heaven in dream of thine?

Oh! where the living waters flow

Along that radiant shore,

My soul, a wanderer here, shall know
The exile-thirst no more!

"The burden of the stranger's heart
Which here unknown I bear,
Like the night-shadow shall depart,
With my first wakening there.
"And borne on eagles wings afar,

Free thought shall claim its dower
From every sphere, from every star,
Of glory and of power."

O, Woman! with the soft sad eye
Of spiritual gleam!

Tell me of those bright realms on high,
How doth thy deep heart dream?

By thy sweet mournful voice I know,
On thy pale brow I see,

That thou hast loved in silent wo,
Say, what is Heaven to thee?

"Oh! Heaven is where no secret dread

May haunt Love's meeting hour;
Where from the past, no gloom is shed
O'er the heart's chosen bower;

"Where every severed wreath is bound;
And none have heard the knell
That smites the soul in that wild sound-
Farewell! Beloved, Farewell!

THE END.

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